Keep Me In Close Orbit
by valmontheights
Summary: A series of non-chronological excerpts from the long and rather complicated relationship between Triple H and Roman Reigns. Not kayfabe-compliant, with Triple H in his "Papa Hunter" mode (genuinely caring but still occasionally a bastard) and Roman Reigns as a needy, eager-to-please bottom with submissive tendencies.
1. Royal Rumble - 2017

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS:** **Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** The first in a series of non-chronological excerpts from the long and rather complicated relationship between Triple H and Roman Reigns. Not kayfabe compliant, with Triple H in his "Papa Hunter" mode (genuinely caring but still occasionally a bastard) and Roman Reigns as a needy, eager-to-please bottom with submissive tendencies. If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea, I suggest you turn away now. Not all of the warnings above will be trotted out in this first chapter, but they will occur in later parts of the story.

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It's nearly midnight when Hunter finally hears the knocking from the other side of his hotel suite door. Three deliberate raps on expensive wood, _knock knock knock._ Hunter pads over to the door, bare feet sinking into the lush carpet of the suite. He opens it to reveal the predatory eyes of Randy Orton, smirking under the hood of his jacket.

"Boss…" the Viper greets him as he steps inside the room. "Nice digs you got here, I guess being so high up the company ladder does have its perks."

"You're late," Hunter says as he closes the door and locks it.

"There were a lot of interviews," Randy says as he peels off his jacket and throws it haphazardly against the back of the ornately-upholstered couch in the suite's living room. "Mostly they just want to know who I'll be up against for Wrestlemania."

Hunter chuckles lightly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"You're gonna keep me in suspense? I tried to get Shane to tell me, but he's adamant that Vince's still mulling over that one."

"Vince is still mulling over a lot of things," Hunter says. "Come on, he's been waiting for you."

Randy takes a step back, seemingly to appraise Hunter's attire. He's still in his dress pants, expensive shirt untucked and unbuttoned, exposing his chest. "I'm surprised you haven't gone a few rounds with him already."

"Had to keep him fresh and ready for Mr. Royal Rumble," Hunter threw a casual arm around Randy's shoulder and guided him towards the bedroom door. "You're his reward, after all."

Randy starts to laugh, but the noise dies in his throat the minute he steps into the dimly lit bedroom and sees what awaits him on the king-size bed.

Roman Reigns, naked and lying curled up on his side, his hands cuffed behind his back and his mouth held open with a bright red ballgag, saliva glistening on his obscenely swollen lips. He's squirming and whimpering quietly, beautiful ass clenching around a vibrating plug that's pushed up to the hilt into his puckered hole.

"God _damn_ …" Randy curses under his breath. "You're spoiling me here, Hunter…got him all nicely packaged up for me."

Hunter wants to correct him, wants to say that if it were up to him, Randy won't be getting anywhere _near_ Roman Reigns tonight, not after all Roman already did for him at the Royal Rumble, but he swallows the words around his clenched jaw.

Roman wanted this. Roman _begged_ for this, begged for Randy specifically, and Hunter can't deny his favorite boy his reward, even if it sits uneasily at the pit of his stomach.

Randy's kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the mattress on all fours, slithering like he's looking for his next RKO. Roman senses the dip in the bed and looks back over his shoulder and outright _mewls_ when he sees Randy _,_ muffled by the gag in his mouth—and Hunter can't deny how unspeakably _hot_ that is, heat starting to coil below his own stomach.

"So…general rules?"

Hunter clears his throat with some difficulty. "You don't get to come in his ass, and you don't get to touch his dick. Either he comes from you fucking him, or I'll take care of him after. Apart from that…have at him."

Randy's smile widens into a predatory grin. "Sounds good to me, Boss."

Roman squirms on the bed, pushing himself back against Randy's groin in a gesture of offering, the faint buzzing of the plug in his ass suddenly seeming like the loudest noise in the room to Hunter's ears.

"How long has he been under?" Randy asks as he peels off his t-shirt, tossing it over the side of the bed impatiently. Hunter can clearly see the naked hunger in Randy's eyes and fights off the wave of possessiveness that washes over him.

"A couple hours now," he tries to sound casual. "I had him blow me just to keep him occupied, but otherwise he's untouched…"

"Mmm…" Randy hums pleasantly as he lowers himself, draping his body over Roman's and breathing close to his neck. "Hey there, baby…"

Roman strains his neck to look back at Randy, eyes glassy and desperate. He looks so wrecked already, glistening with sweat, long dark locks forming a damp curtain down one side of his tan neck. Randy bends his head and nips none-too-gently at Roman's collarbone, eliciting another sweet, sinful moan from behind the gag.

"You're really gonna let me have it all tonight, aren't you baby?" the Viper mutters into the shell of Roman's ear. "You let me toss your ass over the ropes, and now you're gonna let me fuck it, too?"

Roman nods, a little too enthusiastically for Hunter's liking, but his traitorous cock still stiffens at the sight of Roman so pliant and helpless underneath Randy, at how easily and readily Roman gives himself to whoever has control over him.

"Such a good boy…" Randy praises him as his hand wanders low between Roman's ass cheeks, toying with the base of the plug. "Always so willing to take one for the team, so eager to please…"

Roman sinks his head into the mattress and lets out a choked sob, body tightening as Randy pushes the plug evend deeper into him.

"You really outdid yourself out there, huh?" Randy continues. "Last year it was 'one versus all', this year it was you versus all of Texas…"

"Randy…" Hunter says warningly, in a tone that immediately gets the Viper's attention. "Play nice."

As much as he knows how Roman gets off on being talked down to when he's this deep in subspace, the subject of his treatment by the crowds is still a sore spot that Hunter has always tread carefully around, even when he's pushing Roman's other tolerances to the limit.

And tonight Roman had taken the biggest hit of all, putting his game face on and running out there as entrance No.30 to a deafening roar of disdain, undoing whatever small shred of goodwill he'd built up in pockets and clumps over the last few months. He'd eliminated the Undertaker, of all people, absorbing all the heat he could as well as deflecting it off Randy—who had ultimately triumphed by tossing Roman over the ropes.

Randy takes the cue and kisses Roman's stubbled chin gently, his other hand pulling back the strands of dark, sweaty hair away from his temple. "Thank you, baby… thank you for letting me do that—for letting me do _this_. You're always so good for us, you know?"

Hunter can see the praise practically rippling up and down Roman's flesh, every syllable of Randy's voice sending minor shockwaves through him, echoed by the pulsing in Hunter's own cock. He palms the front of his trousers to steady himself a bit—he's already come down Roman's throat once tonight and he still wants to do more with the boy once Randy's done, so it's in his best interest to pace himself.

On the bed, Randy's stripped himself down to his boxers and maneuvered Roman to lie on his stomach, kicking his legs apart with his knees. He kneads the firm, muscular globes of Roman's ass greedily, marveling at the sight of Roman's hole clenching around the base of the plug. He looks up at Hunter and grins. "Why can't they all be this easy, huh?"

Hunter shrugs. "He's special…he just wants to please."

It's more than that, Hunter knows it's so much more than that, but he's not having this discussion with Randy now, not when Roman's so far gone he can barely support his own weight on his knees when Randy pulls him up by the hips. Truth be told, he just wants Randy to get it over with and leave, so he can have his boy all to himself again.

"The other one is such a brat…" Randy says as he strokes down Roman's broad back, feeling the planes of muscle there. "Sure it's fun to finally get him down and willing for you, but sometimes it takes so much effort it's barely even worth it…"

"Don't remind me…" Hunter says, suddenly reminded that he still has Seth to deal with. The entitled little shit had shown up at the NXT event unannounced, throwing everyone off script with his little stunt. Later, after a thorough dressing down in the production truck, Seth still had the gall to say he should be rewarded for coming up with something that kicked their storyline into high gear, frustrated with how slow it took for the feud between him and Hunter to build up.

It was all so typically Seth, and so typically maddening.

"He knows what's coming for him, though…didn't like it when I told him, but he's gonna take it like a good little bitch or he's going to have to deal with even more punishment."

"Think he's jealous because of all the attention you've been giving his pretty brother over here?" Randy smiles as he leans down and licks a long, salacious stripe up Roman's back. The Samoan arches his body, as if chasing the hot, slick trail of Randy's tongue and Hunter gets another jolt in his groin. He sets any thoughts of Seth aside for now.

"If he wants more of _that_ kind of attention, all he had to was ask…" Hunter moved close to edge of the bed near where Roman's head lay, kneeling down in front him. Roman looked at him with wide, glassy eyes, saliva beading down his chin from the gag held his mouth open. "Like this one…he always knows how to ask so nicely."

Hunter strokes down Roman's face, delighting in how the boy nuzzled against his palm, even with all that Randy's doing further down his body.

 _Still mine_ , Hunter thinks, cupping Roman's jaw. _Still fucking mine_.

Roman tenses suddenly, shoulders tightening as a loud moan escapes his lips. Looking up, Hunter can see Randy holding the plug, turning it off before tossing it over the side of the bed.

"Jesus, you're impatient, Orton…" he hisses. "Careful around precious company merchandise, will you?"

"Bullshit," Randy says as he reaches over to the bedside table, where Hunter has thoughtfully laid out a bottle of lube and some condoms. "I know how this bitch likes it…he wants it rough, don't you?"

Roman nods, hair falling in front of his eyes. Hunter brushes the strands back, wanting to look into the boy's eyes to make sure he's completely on board. It's difficult to tell with Roman sometimes—he's built to take a lot of punishment and doesn't like to admit when things get a bit too much for him to handle. This deep in subspace, desperate with need and with someone other than Hunter so hungry to fuck him, Hunter isn't sure he can trust the boy to know his own limits. It's happened before.

"Take that fucking ballgag off him," Randy says, already a little breathless as he lines his cock up against Roman's entrance. "I wanna hear the noises he makes."

Hunter shoots him a dark look, not appreciating the commanding tone in Randy's voice, but he slides the gag out of Roman's mouth and lets it tuck under his sloppy chin. "Hey, baby boy…"

"D-Daddy…" Roman croaks out, his voice hoarse.

"You ready for this?" Randy smacks him once on the left side of his ass. "Wanna hear you say it, pretty boy…"

"Yes…" Roman says as he struggles to look over his shoulder.

Hunter sinks his fingers into the thick, damp strands of Roman's hair and tightens his grip. "Ask, baby… ask for what you want."

Roman winces at the pull on his scalp, coughs to clear his throat, and strains his neck further to look Randy in the eyes. "Please fuck me, Randy… please."

Randy fucking _snarls_ at that and pushes forward, sheathing himself in Roman in one savage thrust. The force of it throws Roman forward, his forehead thumping against Hunter's chest. He cries out, clearly in some kind of discomfort, wrists pulling at the cuffs where it held them at the small of his back.

"Shit, still so fucking _tight_ …" Randy murmurs appreciatively. "And here I thought your Daddy would've ruined you for everyone else, Reigns…"

Hunter quells the urge to say, _I may just make sure I do that from this point forward_ and rubs soothing circles into Roman's scalp with his thumb. He knows can't stay there, Roman wants this moment with Randy and he can't be interfering like this, so he reluctantly backs away and settles himself into one of the chairs in the bedroom, mindful of his own hard-on as he leans against the plush upholstery.

He has to admit, the sight is better than any big-budget porno can ever produce. Randy's pounding into Roman, holding him by the hips for leverage, tattooed arms glistening with sweat as he fucks the helpless man below him. Roman, his mouth now ungagged, let out a symphony of moans and whimpers that set Hunter's dick throbbing inside his pants, a litany of _please_ and _more_ in staccato bursts in time with Randy's thrusts and the clink of the handcuffs holding his hands immobile.

Randy grabs Roman's hair and pulls back, forcing the boy to arch his neck up with no real means of supporting his weight. Roman cries out sharply, tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah, keep making those noises, you little cockslut…" Randy says as he bites down on Roman's straining shoulder. "Wanna hear you lose it…"

Hunter wants to tell him to slow down, to ease off a little bit, instead he just bites the inside of his mouth so hard he tastes his own blood. Roman has a safeword and knows how to use it. Randy knows the safeword, too—and Hunter's warned him plenty enough to look out for signs of Roman tapping out if he can't quite use his voice. He just has to sit here and let it happen—let his precious, beautiful boy get fucked senseless by The Viper because it was the reward Roman asked for.

He'll fix this once Randy's done. He'll make Roman _his_ again, without a shadow of doubt. For now he just squirms on the chair, white-knuckled as he grips the arms to stop him from touching himself, listening as Roman's moans escalate into a crescendo in time with Randy's quickening pace.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck…_ " Randy grunts, hips pistoning into Roman as he plasters himself against the Samoan's back, one hand in a bruising grip at his waist and the other tightly fisted in his hair. "Gonna come soon in this sweet little hole…"

"Please…" Roman whimpers, half-muffled against the sheets that have bunched up around his face. "Please, Randy…"

Hunter averts his eyes as Randy hits his climax, thrusting deep and savage into Roman and holding himself there. He can hear Roman's choked sobs as he stares out the window at the San Antonio skyline, delicious noises he's heard a million times before and can never tire of, already thinking of how he's going to make Roman make those noises again, this time for him and him alone.

"Fuck, that was amazing…" Randy mutters breathlessly as he withdraws, giving Roman's ass a smack for good measure.

Hunter remains seated as Randy gets off the bed and pads over to the bathroom to clean himself, then watches as he gathers his clothes from the floor and dresses up quickly.

"I believe you can show yourself outside?"

"Sure, sure…" Randy says as he zips up his jeans. "Thanks, Hunter…I know you don't share much, but that's a piece of ass I wouldn't mind having another go at, if you'll let me."

Hunter wants nothing more than to punch The Viper in his smug-looking face, but he quells his jealousy enough to say, "Only if he asks for you again…"

Randy looks mildly disappointed at that, but shrugs it off. "I'll catch you later, then."

Hunter waits for the telltale sound of the suite's main doors closing, assuring him that he's once again alone with Roman, before getting off his seat and kneeling in front of the bed once more.

"Hey…" he cups Roman's face with both hands and lifts it to look at him. "You okay, baby boy?"

Roman bites his lip, trying to shuffle closer across the mattress but the movement produces a painful grimace that instantly tells Hunter something's wrong.

"Roman?"

"H-hurts…" the boy rasps out. "It hurts, Daddy…"

Alarmed, Hunter immediately reaches for the safety latch in the handcuffs, opening it with a click and gently pulling Roman's arms forward to rest beside his head. He then circles around mattress to get a good look at Roman's backside, the unease knotting in his stomach growing as he looks between Roman's slightly parted thighs.

"Son of a fucking _bitch…_ " he mutters when he sees Roman's bruised and battered hole, slick with remnants of lube and an unmistakable red rim of blood, a trickle of it already starting to trail down his tan thighs. Hunter sees _red_ himself, already halfway off the bed before he can think. "Stay here…I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"No!" Roman exclaims, reaching back frantically to grab at Hunter's wrist. "Stay with me—stay with me, Daddy…please…"

"Roman…"

"Don't leave me—" Roman softens his grip, as if realizing he's overstepped his boundaries. "Please, please stay here…"

Hunter inhales deeply, trying to get his own thoughts in order. He wants nothing more than to chase Orton down the hallway and throw him down an empty elevator shaft. He also wants nothing more than to hold Roman close and never let go again. Then there's the guilt, the feeling of having failed Roman by letting another man hurt him. And the anger, anger at Randy for going too far, anger at Roman for not using his safeword or tapping out.

 _Think. Priorities. Tend to the damage first, make sure he's okay. There are other ways to punish Randy Orton._

He pushes the questions aside for now and scoops Roman off the mattress, an easy enough task now with plenty of practice even if the boy is over 260 pounds of muscle and bone, carrying him to the bathroom. He makes Roman bend over the counter as he inspects the damage and cleans it with a soft washcloth, adding a cooling gel he always keeps in his toiletry bag just in case. _Just in case I let another man run wild over you and tear you open. Fucking hell._

"Why didn't you stop him?" Hunter asks, unable to hold it in any longer. "You know you're allowed to stop him if he gets too much for you."

Roman hangs his head between his elbows, not meeting Hunter's gaze in the mirror.

"Look, I know I can be a bastard sometimes but I'm not a fucking _monster_ , Reigns…" Hunter grits out, wiping the washcloth down one of Roman's strong thighs. "I would've stopped him if you asked me to. I only let him fuck you because you asked for it, I didn't enjoy that one bit, and I certainly wouldn't have let him anywhere near you if I knew this was going to happen."

"I'm sorry, Hunter…" Roman manages to choke out.

"You have your safeword, you could've tapped out if you needed to." Hunter throws the washcloth into the wastebasket in the corner of the bathroom. He knows Randy's discarded condom is probably in there, too—and he doesn't want to look to see the stain of Roman's blood on it. "We can't go on like this…"

That gets Roman's attention, his head snapping up to regard Hunter with fearful, dark eyes. "W-what?"

"This will only work if we _both_ follow the rules, Roman…" Hunter says sternly. "I'm all for giving you whatever you want, and I know you'll give me whatever I want in return, but I _won't_ be made to feel like a fool for sitting by and letting someone hurt you like this, all the while thinking you're getting exactly what you want."

"Hunter, I…"

"Get back in the bedroom and think about what I just said," Hunter says as he pulls Roman upright, unable to resist kissing him on his tattoed shoulder. "Wait for me,"

"Are you—"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to go in the living room and make a call," Hunter assured him. "Make yourself comfortable,"

With that, he stalks out of the bathroom and retrieves his phone from the bedside table, before making his way out into the suite's living room.

Orton at least has the common sense to _sound_ apologetic, even if Hunter's known him long enough to know there's a streak of sadistic delight running through The Viper's appeals for forgiveness.

 _Never let Randy Orton play with your toys if you don't wanna see them broken_ , is the undertone of their brief phone conversation, and Randy doesn't even sound too bothered by the prospect of not getting anywhere near Roman again for the foreseeable future. Hunter knows he has others he can play with, it used to be Seth until the brand split necessitated the Viper to expand his horizons a little—he doesn't ask for details because he really, really doesn't want to know.

When he ends the phone call with a curt goodbye he grabs two bottles of water from the pantry and steps back into the bedroom. Roman is sitting at the edge of the bed, his back to Hunter as he gazes out the window. He's still naked, the warm bedside lights bathing his tan skin in a golden glow, and already Hunter feels his heart rate picking up and his traitorous dick, rendered soft by the sight of Roman's pain, starting to harden again.

He steps in front of Roman and hands him the bottle. "Drink…then we'll talk."

Roman takes the bottle obediently and uncaps it, swallowing mouthfuls of water into his throat as Hunter watches. He's not quite as deep in subspace anymore but still heeding Hunter's commands like a good boy, and the way he's sitting suggests the pain from Randy's treatment may not be as bad as Hunter first thought, but _still._

When Roman's had enough to drink, Hunter takes the bottle from him and sets it aside. Standing tall in front of Roman, he reaches for the boy's neck with one hand, exerting just the tiniest amount of pressure.

"Look at me," Hunter stays sternly.

Roman swallows, his throat bobbing in Hunter's grip, and he doesn't move his head fast enough for the older man's liking.

"I said, look at me!" Hunter moves his hand to Roman's chin and yanks it up, forcing the boy to look at him. Roman's dark eyes are still glassy with need, red-rimmed from tears, his mouth hanging slightly open. He's not being defiant, just…confused and lost and more than a little ashamed. Hunter can practically see the thoughts forming and breaking behind those eyes, the twitch of dissolving words on those swollen, pretty lips.

"I'm going only going to say this once, so listen carefully…" Hunter begins, fighting to keep his tone even. "When you want pleasure, when you want to feel good, you have my permission to seek it from anyone you want. I don't care—as long as you're happy. If it's me you want it from, then I'll give it to you—so long as I get some from you, too. You understand?"

Roman nods, blinking as a tear drips loose from the corner of his right eye.

"But when you want it to _hurt…_ when you want to be taken down so hard you don't even think you can come back up, when you need to go that place where pain is the only thing that works? You come to me. And _only_ me." Hunter tightens his grip on Roman's chin for emphasis. "It's only _me_ that gets to hurt you, because I know how to do it like nobody else can, I know how to do it the way you like it, and I can _make_ you like the the things you never thought you would."

He leaves out the part where he's the only one who can bring Roman back from the bottomless pit, the only one who can break him into a million pieces and meticulously put him back together again with all the care that Roman deserves, and then shove him back out there into the glaring lights of the world to be torn anew.

The way Roman catches the heel of Hunter's calloused palm with his lips in a trembling, reverent kiss tells him that the boy already knows.

"Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir…" Roman's voice is barely a whisper, eyelids starting droop as he drifts back under.

"Not _sir_ …." Hunter thumbs the boy's stubbled cheek gently. "The other word."

Roman's eyes flutter shut, and when they reopen there's a faint spark of light there that Hunter relishes, the look of utter trust and devotion he craves.

"Yes, _Daddy_ …" the voice that speaks the words is steadier, as if finding strength in his submission.

Hunter smiles, bends down and kisses Roman's forehead. The boy trembles, shoulders tightening as he almost starts to cry again.

They're both navigating their way through this, Hunter more than he'll ever care to admit, but Roman's worth it. He knows he's holding something so powerful and precious in his hands, a fragile center made of sharp panes of glass, wrapped in strong sinew and bone, and he won't ruin it for anything.

"I can't always make it happen for you out there…" he says when he pulls back, both hands now caressing Roman's face. "Too many variables. What Vince wants, what the creatives come up with, what the other guys are doing up and down the card, what sort of mood the crowd's in when we roll into whatever goddamn city on a given week…not to mention the million other things I've got on my plate."

Roman nods, breathes deeply against Hunter's chest. "I know, Daddy…"

"But when it's just you and me? Like this?" Hunter smiles down at his boy. "You tell me whatever you've got going in that pretty head of yours, what you want to feel and how you want to get there, and I'll get you there."

Roman's expression brightens so quickly it's almost painful to watch, unguarded need breaking through the hard surface, and there's a twist in Hunter's gut he has to fight to suppress.

"Promise, Daddy?"

Oh, that voice. That voice saying _those_ words will be Hunter's undoing. He fucking knows it. "Promise… so what'll it be tonight, baby boy? What do you need?"

"You…" Roman says breathily. "Just you, Daddy."

"I'm flattered, but you gotta be more specific than that, baby…" Hunter smiles as he brushes his thumb along Roman's bottom lip and watches as the boy catches it in his mouth, sucking the tip gently. "Why don't you go lie down, you're always better at telling me what you want when I'm on top of you…"

Roman complies, scooting gingerly up the mattress to lie on his back, legs spreading out of habit. There's still a streak of crimson lining the rim of his abused hole, and Hunter makes a mental note to ensure that Randy loses one of his matches leading up to the Elimination Chamber. Maybe the one against Cena that's scheduled for next week. He'll call Shane and the bookers in the morning.

For now, he settles himself next to Roman, lying half on top of him, one hand stroking through his thick, dark hair while the other wanders down to caress the underside of Roman's thigh. Roman nuzzles against his shoulder, burrowing as deep as he can go, one hand worrying the collar of Hunter's open shirt.

"Talk to me…" Hunter says. "Tell me what's in your head."

"I wanted Randy to hurt me," Roman says, the words ghosting hot against Hunter's collarbone. "I wanted to not be able to do anything about it, just take it… to feel like I didn't have a choice, like it's all I'm good for,"

 _Like it's my job_ , is what Hunter hears between the hitched breaths. _Like I did tonight at the Rumble. Take all the heat, let myself be the focus of everyone's anger and disdain so Randy gets a pop when he throws me over and wins the damn thing. Just like I've been told to._

"And why didn't you stop him when it got too much?" Hunter asks carefully. "Why'd you make me sit through it, when I could've saved you?"

 _Why did you make me sit there and watch as a man who revels in being called a viper, a fucking predator, destroys you like you're a worthless piece of meat, when you damn well know I can barely tolerate anyone else touching you?_

"I wanted…" Roman pauses, clearly mulling over his choice of words. "I needed you to _not_ save me. I can't… I can't really explain it. I wanted it to feel like, I'm so far gone that even you don't think I'm worth saving anymore," his breath hitches over the words. "I don't know, _fuck—_ I don't know, I'm so messed up, Daddy, I can't…"

"Shhh…." Hunter calms him with a kiss on his temple. "It's okay, baby…you're doing good…"

 _You're not the only one. There's a lot of messed up people in this business, and God knows I'm messed up beyond all things when it comes to you._

"I…I thought it would make it okay in my head. Make _tonight_ okay," Roman continues. "If I can wake up tomorrow thinking that I've let Randy Orton do worse things to me than anyone out there will _ever_ know…" he looks up at Hunter, eyes wide and hopeful. "…at least I'll have that."

Hunter nods, even though he doesn't understand the whole thing, not _yet,_ though the pieces are starting to slot together for him.

Tomorrow, the world will tear Roman Reigns to pieces again, or at least try to, and he will shoulder that burden just like he has so many times before. Tonight, though, tonight Roman can let himself break down completely, crumble under the weight of it all, let the man he'd been forced to lose to get all up inside him and wreck him thoroughly, finishing the job.

Roman doesn't get the luxury of working through his feelings out there in the ring. He doesn't get to exorcise his demons through fists and thumbtacks the way Ambrose does, or spit out fire and vitriol laced with snarling laughter like Seth. He doesn't get to bash his way through someone's body and heart, and have it done to him in equal measure the way Zayn and Owens have been going for what seems like centuries, doesn't get to bask in reputation and respect like AJ Styles, or even relish and play to the crowds' disgust like Jericho.

He only ever gets to be Roman fucking Reigns, presented like an exotic wild animal caged within impossibly chiseled, beautiful features, almost too good to be true, everything the people were supposed to love but decided to hate instead. Hunter can't fix _that_ , he doesn't know how to even begin, it's a train that went off the rails a million miles ago when nobody heeded the signs and put on the brakes.

He can't give Roman the world, but he can at least make a small pocket of it bearable, here in their own private little universe where pain and pleasure orbit like binary stars. The Game knows how to play those two things against each other like nobody else—and he wants Roman to get everything he can out of it.

"And what do you want me to do now…" Hunter says. "After I didn't save you?"

"Take me back," Roman says without hesitation. "Take me back from him, Daddy…make it…make it feel _right_ again,"

He's gone under completely again, his voice raspy at the edges, and Hunter responds almost instinctively to that, hand tightening in the muscles of Roman's thigh.

"I'll do that…" he puts more of his weight on top of Roman, pressing their foreheads together. "And when I'm done, you'll forget you ever had Randy _fucking_ Orton inside of you. You belong to _me_ , you understand?"

Roman nods frantically. "Yours, Daddy… I'm yours."

Hunter lets his hand drift higher between Roman's legs. "I'll fuck every last trace of him out of you, I'll make you _mine_ again, fill you up with my come the way I'll never, ever let him or anyone else do."

"Yes…" Roman whimpers, legs spreading wider to allow Hunter's hand more room. "Please, Daddy…"

He knows he needs to be careful, there's less than 24 hours until the next episode of RAW and he sure as hell can't send Roman out there to interfere with someone the likes of Braun Strowman if the boy can't even walk.

"What's your safeword, baby?" Hunter asks as he reaches over to grab the bottle of lube Randy left on the nightstand. "Say it, so we both know you remember how to use it."

"Shield," Roman gasps out. "My safeword is 'Shield',"

"Good boy…" Hunter leans down to kiss him possessively, tongue snaking inside Roman's mouth as he coats his fingers generously with the cool gel. "This will hurt, but it's going to be _me_ hurting you, not him."

"Only you…" Roman agrees. "It's okay if it's you, Daddy…it's more than okay, _fuck—"_ he hisses as Hunter pushes one finger past his swollen rim.

Hunter usually starts him off with two, or three if Roman's begging for some kind of punishment, but he really can't bring himself to do it tonight. Not after all the damage Randy's done. He's secretly glad he put so much lube on that one finger—the gel cushions him from feeling if Roman's still bleeding inside. He'll have to check in the morning just to be sure but right now he just needs, wants to be inside Roman so bad.

"You're beautiful…" he says as he nips at Roman's ear. "Open for me like this, I never get tired of watching you…"

Roman's eyelids flutter, sinking into the praise, mouth falling open as Hunter presses his finger deep, teasing his prostate. Hunter lets his eyes wander down the length of Roman's body, at the hard nipples peaking on his bronze chest, the neglected erection twitching against his muscled stomach, the willingly spread legs between which Hunter's hand is nesting, wrist brushing against the soft, dark curls.

When Hunter adds another finger Roman arches off the mattress, burying his face in Hunter's neck.

"Hurts?"

"A little…" Roman whispers. "I can take it—for you,"

Hunter leans down and kisses the beading tear off the corner of Roman's eye. "I'll make it good, baby…I promise."

He scoots down the mattress to kneel between Roman's spread legs, undoing his trousers just enough to let his hard cock pop out of its fabric confines. He doesn't want to bother undressing the rest of way and he knows Roman likes it when Hunter fucks him half-dressed, it tips the power balance just that little bit more. Grabbing a pillow and placing it under Roman's hips, he urges the boy to lift his legs and hold his own knees up, Hunter's weight helping him roll up the rest of the way.

"Please…" Roman begs softly, and Hunter surges forward to comply.

There's a noise Roman makes whenever he's being penetrated in this position, caught in his throat, a desperate little wheeze that sets Hunter's nerves on fire. The look on his face is unguarded and loose, just like when he's lying on the mat after taking a particularly hard bump or someone else's finisher. Hunter loses count of the number of times he's had to quell a raging erection in the production booth, when the cameras focus on Roman's face a little too long as he's lying face down on the mat, squirming in pain with glazed, unfocused eyes.

"Fuck…" he mutters as he bottoms out, forehead pressed against Roman's. "So tight around me, baby boy…like your ass was made for my dick."

Roman's breath hitches again, drawing his legs up even further.

"Think you can come just from me fucking you, without touching yourself?" Hunter says as he leans down to kiss the tip of Roman's nose. "I know you can, you've done it before…"

"Y-yes," Roman says with a nod.

Hunter starts off with a slow pace, but soon he's undone by the heat and tightness wrapped around his cock, and the beautiful face underneath him, contorting in a mix of pain and pleasure. He lets Roman's legs down to wrap loosely around his waist as he bends to kiss Roman again, swallow his pretty moans as he starts to thrust harder and faster.

He could go all night like this, fucking hard and good and making sure he hits Roman's prostate with every other trust, but he knows he needs to do more, needs to get Roman back on even ground, _make it feel right_ as he says.

Hunter grabs Roman's face in both hands and angles it so they're looking straight into each other's eyes. "Look at me…"

Roman's eyes are two dark pools of trust and obedience, unhindered by colored lenses and camera lights. They're windows straight into his mind, a rabbit hole Hunter's fallen down into time and again, chasing after some sick validation he never even knew he craved. He sees the way his own rough, large thumbs bracket Roman's eyes and the surge of possessiveness kicks in again, prompting a particularly hard thrust that sends Roman wincing.

"It's only me that gets to hurt you…" he growls darkly against Roman's mouth.

"Only you…" Roman agrees.

"Only me that gets to bleed you, only me that gets to breed you," Hunter accentuates his word with a nip at Roman's bottom lip. "Say it…"

Roman inhales sharply as Hunter fucks into him, steadying his voice. "O-only Daddy gets to bleed me—oh, _fuck…_ and only Daddy gets to b-breed me…"

"Good boy," Hunter rewards him with an angled thrust that jabs right against Roman's prostate, drawing a long, guttural moan out of him. "Come on, baby…I know you're ready to burst down there, just let it go—"

"Fuck, _fuck,_ Daddy—" Roman says as he sinks both hands into the fabric of the pillowcase and grips tightly, knowing he's not been given permission to touch elsewhere. Still being a good boy even when he's about to lose it, and the thought sends Hunter that much closer to the edge.

Roman comes like that, both hands fisting the pillowcase and his mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut as his dick splatters untouched between their bodies, painting Roman's stomach and Hunter's chest with thick white strands of semen. Hunter stills himself to ride it out, watching as the beautiful creature underneath him unravels completely, hours of pent-up frustration and repressed feelings bubbling to the surface, like a fever breaking over sick flesh.

"Oh, God…" Roman mutters weakly as his head falls back onto the pillow, damp with sweat and tears of relief.

Hunter smiles and resumes fucking him, delighting in the involuntary twitches from the oversensitive body he's thrusting into. "You can hold on to me if you want, baby…come on."

Roman seizes on the permission and hangs onto Hunter like a lifeline, arms flung around the older man's neck and legs tightening around Hunter's waist, as if drawing him closer. Hunter can feel his walls clenching around him even further, as if wanting to squeeze the orgasm out of him, Roman's body still shaking in the wake of his own.

"Gonna come in you…" he grits out against Roman's ear, nipping at the shell. "Fill you up…"

"Please, Daddy…" Roman's voice barely registers as words. "Need you…inside me…"

Hunter pulls back as he feels his climax coming, steadying himself so he can look down and enjoy the view of Roman as he's being pumped full of his Daddy's come, pulse after pulse of it shooting inside his body, reclaiming him. It's almost as good as the face he makes during his orgasm—perhaps even better because he's more lucid, fully aware of what's happening to his body, of what Hunter is doing to him. He looks up to meet Hunter's gaze, dark eyes wide and trusting as if to say, _I'm yours again._

Hunter leans down and kisses his mouth, molding wet lips together to the throb of his pulse in his own ears, drumming _mine, mine, mine_ in a crescendo even as his orgasm recedes into a dull ache in his joints and the stickiness of his dress shirt against his sweat-soaked back.

Later, after a cursory wipe-down and another check to make sure he hasn't done more damage than has been inflicted on his boy earlier that night, he'll finally strip himself off the rest of his clothes and slip under the covers with Roman, gathering him close as he starts to drift off.

"How long…how long do I still have you for?" Roman asks drowsily against his chest.

"Until tomorrow night at least," Hunter says as he stares up at the ceiling. "Got that big segment to do with Seth on Raw tomorrow…then I think I need to head down to Florida for an NXT meeting."

"Hmmm…" Roman mumbles. "Wish you could stick around longer,"

"Me too, baby boy…" Hunter rubs up and down Roman's back slowly. "I think your own road schedule's looking pretty crazy for the next few weeks."

"Yeah…" Roman says. "They're having me team up with Sami for a couple of house shows—should be fun."

Hunter smiles and nuzzles against Roman's forehead. "Maybe he can teach you how to do the Tope Con Hilo _properly_ …"

Roman cuffs him lightly on the chest. "Don't tease..."

"You hungry? You haven't eaten anything since we got back from the arena…"

"M'tired…just wanna sleep…" Roman says, shuffling even closer. "I'll eat tomorrow."

"Okay…" Hunter brushes his lips against Roman's temple softly.

He spends the next few minutes with his fingers splayed on Roman's back, rubbing circles with his fingers as he feels Roman's breathing even out against his chest, signaling that he was falling asleep. Roman's always like this after they have sex, clinging to him as if afraid Hunter's going to leave—even after numerous assurances that he's not going anywhere, at least not until morning and they have to re-emerge out into the real world.

To be completely honest, Hunter doesn't know if any of this actually _helps_ , if Roman's any better to face the reality of what awaits him out there after being with Hunter for a night. He'd like to think so, but he's been wrong more times than he cares to admit when it came to Roman, made some bad decisions on the younger man's behalf that ended up doing neither of them any good—more often than not leaving Roman for the worse.

He likes to think that at least Roman's _safe_ with him, here in his arms and not having to care in the slightest what the world outside thought of him. It's a patch-up job at best, like sandbags heaved against a broken dam, too infrequent to sustain him for long periods of time. But Hunter knows his boy will step out onto the stage tomorrow and brave the onslaught with a steely look in his dark eyes, knowing that he'll always have a place to come back to where he can let himself break, let the facade crumble into dust.

It's the least Hunter can do—at least until he figures out how he can do more.


	2. Live From Alaska - 2017

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS:** **Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** A sweeter, slower interlude taking place during the RAW roster's trip to Alaska in early February 2017.

.

.

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Cold.

That's the first thing that registers in Sami's sleep-heavy brain as he slowly wakes, hands instinctively reaching for the spot next to him in the mattress and finding it empty. He cracks his eyes open, the fuzzy outline of the hotel room window coming into view, illuminated by the weak early morning sunlight.

Cold. Cold. _Cold._

As his eyes focus, he can see the snow gathering at the corners of the window frame, and the gray-white landscape of the Alaskan winter outside. He has fond memories of playing with his colleagues in the snow outside the arena yesterday, throwing snowballs at each other like big, rowdy children. It's a moment of unguarded silliness they rarely get to indulge in with their busy schedule, and Sami wonders if he can muster enough will to bundle up and walk in the snow outside before they have to check out, just to relish the great white wonder of it all.

That is, unless his roommate has other plans.

His roommate, who is currently absent from the bed where he should be, leaving only tousled sheets and indents on the pillow next to Sami.

That's when his other senses catch up with him and he hears the low hum of a murmured conversation from the other side of the room, the one still mostly cast in shadows. Sami cranes his neck and sees Roman on his phone, seated on the only chair in the room in a languid stretch, dressed only in his boxers and talking quietly to whoever is on the other side of the line.

Roman sees him and smiles, and Sami feels just a little warmer. A little. Not enough. He makes a gesture for Roman to come back to bed, which Roman ignores at first until there's a pause in the conversation, and he looks straight at Sami.

"Yeah…yeah, he's awake. Just."

Sami rubs his eyes and stretches, the back of his hands meeting the fabric-paneled headboard. Roman gets up off the chair, phone still held against his ear.

"You wanna talk to him? Hold on, I'll give him the phone…"

"Who…" Sami has to cough first to clear his throat. "Who is it?"

Roman just smiles as he hands his phone over, which Sami struggles not to drop with his sleep-stiff fingers. "Hello?" he croaks sleepily into the phone.

"Hey, Red…"

 _Sweet Merciful God._ The combination of Hunter's gravelly voice, the smile Sami can _hear_ in it, and the use of an old nickname he hasn't heard in too, too long sends a jolt straight up Sami's spine and he's ten times more awake than he was five seconds ago.

"Hey, Hunter…"

"How is it up there?"

Sami closes his eyes, letting the voice wash over him, the rasp of it so close to his ear he can almost imagine the man himself in the room with them. If only. _If only_.

"Cold," Sami says as he snuggles deeper into the blankets. "Really, really cold."

A chuckle comes across the line. "Isn't Roman keeping you warm?"

Sami looks up at the tall figure standing silhouetted against the bleak light from the window. "He _was_ , now he's just standing next to the bed trying to look all, I don't know, _statuesque_ and shit."

Roman gives him a scowl, meanwhile Hunter just laughs, the sound of it rich and warm against Sami's ear. "I can imagine…must be quite a sight."

"Yeah…" Sami agrees, taking in the way light and shadow falls on the lines of ink on Roman's arm. "Yeah, it is."

"You ain't such a bad sight yourself, if I recall correctly…" Hunter says. "Bet you still got that soft red fuzz all over you, the one that goes all the way down to your happy trail…"

Sami gasps a little, making Roman arch his eyebrows. Damnit, how is it that Hunter can go from casual conversation to phone sex in 0.5 seconds?

"You getting a little warmer there, Sami?"

"A little…" Sami lets his free hand trail down to his navel, running his fingers through the short hairs Hunter referred to. "I'm imagining your hands on me."

It's early and his brain-to-mouth filter, dodgy even at best, is clearly in a state of non-function, but Hunter responds with another soft, warm, chuckle. He knows Sami too well by now. "Been a long time since I got my hands on you, Red…"

"You're a busy man," Sami says, trying not to sound despondent about it.

"That I am," Hunter sounds almost regretful. "I can make it up to you, though…"

"Oh?" Sami's smile widens, and Roman arches an eyebrow in interest. "You planning something for me, Boss? Aside from taking the Coquina Clutch, that is…"

Roman winces a little, a twinge of sympathy for Seth, no doubt—and a reminder that Sami's being set up to basically be cannon fodder for Samoa Joe's establishment as an all-conquering destroyer.

"It'll be fine, you'll be fine…" Hunter assures him. "I've told him to be extra careful with you, Seth just had a bad fall when he went down…"

"I know," Sami says as he shifts the phone to one hand, beckoning Roman to come closer to the bed with the other. "I've talked to Joe about it. We'll rehearse the spot before we go on air, figure out how exactly he'll take me down. I'm more interested in what you've got planned for after, if that is indeed what you're implying here."

Roman climbs onto the bed next to Sami as he lays the phone down between them, hitting the speaker button.

"I'm heading straight to Vegas after we wrap up the Elimination Chamber," Hunter's voice crackles through the speaker. "Got a big nice suite booked, and I can think of one or two people I'd like to keep me company in it,"

"I'm listening…" Sami says playfully, exchanging a knowing glance with Roman. "Roman's listening, too."

"Is he, now?" Hunter sounds amused. "You there, baby boy?"

Roman gives Sami a little smirk and leans down onto the phone to say, "Right here, Daddy…"

Sami has to quell the moan that threatens to escape his lips because _holy shit_ , it's the hottest thing he's heard in months even if it shouldn't be. The timbre of Roman's voice, the depth and huskiness of it as he casually calls Hunter 'Daddy', resonant with promised obedience and submission, sends a bolt of heat right into Sami's awakening dick. He's known about Roman and Hunter for years, the same way Roman's always known about him and Hunter, but he's never actually experienced their relationship dynamics up close like this. The idea of getting to see more of it, of getting to take part in it, is something that definitely makes up for whatever Samoa Joe's going to do to him on Monday.

"You taking care of our Sami, Roman?"

 _Our Sami._

"Yes, I am…" Roman reaches over and brushes his thumb across Sami's quivering lips, a pinpoint of warmth against the cold surrounding them. "Gonna take care of him some more, after this…"

 _Oh, you wanna play, Big Guy? I can play._ Sami catches Roman's thumb in his mouth, sucking gently at the tip before swallowing it down to the first knuckle, purposely making a wet sucking noise as he does so.

"You boys should take care of each other…" Hunter's voice says. "…at least until Monday night, then I can have the both of you."

Sami lets Roman's thumb slide from his mouth to say, "That a promise?"

"I always do right by my boys, don't I?"

"That you do….you sure you don't wanna watch us take care of each other?" Roman offers, thumb now stroking Sami's chin.

"Can't…got a meeting with the engineers coming up. We're testing this new chamber they've built to make sure it doesn't fall apart the minute your buddy Ambrose starts monkey-jumping all over it…"

Roman chuckles. "I bet he has some crazy shit planned already…it's gonna be a great show."

"Not as great as the one I'll get when I have the two of you with me in Vegas…" Hunter says. "Listen, I gotta go. Be good, baby boy…"

"We'll see you in Vegas, then." Sami says.

"See you there, Red…" Hunter says before ending the call.

Roman takes the phone and reaches behind himself to put it on the bedside table, giving Sami another chance to watch the play of faint sunlight on the ink-wrapped muscles of his arm. Roman's a beautiful sight to behold, shaped as if from sculpter's clay, and the half-smile he gives Sami when they're face-to-face again is another pinprick of warmth in an otherwise cold room.

"So…I've heard of unusual bookings before," Sami says. "But I don't think I've ever been booked for a threesome by my own boss, _with_ my own boss, no less."

Roman laughs, half-sinking his nose into a pillow. "Yeah, that just happened, didn't it?"

"M'not complaining or anything, just…" Sami blinks at the ceiling. "Yeah."

"You're thinking too much," Roman reaches over to drape over Sami's torso, dragging him closer. "C'mere and let me take care of you like I promised Daddy…"

The last coherent thought Sami has before Roman starts kissing him is how fucking hot it's gonna be to hear Roman call Hunter 'Daddy' and have the older man present in the room, to see the look on Hunter's face when he hears it. Sami knows it's gonna be a really special night, but right now he's content with the preview Roman's giving him with a tongue swirling around his mouth, strong arms wrapping tight around Sami's body.

Warm. Warm. _Warm._

Every inch of Roman is warm, from the tongue snaking into Sami's mouth down to the thick calves wrapping around Sami's legs. Sami sinks into him like a handprint in the sand, suddenly aware of how utterly cold he's been—and it has nothing to do with Alaska.

It's an intimacy he's been without for too long, pushed to the back of his mind as he tries to find a more solid footing on RAW, still unsure of where he stands in the greater scheme of things or if he's even part of that greater scheme at all. Teaming up with Roman last night and actually winning against Kevin for once felt good, made even better by the quick and dirty handjob Roman gave him later in the showers.

He won't go so far as to say he's _stagnating_ , just—at this point it can go either way and the minute he's called up to possibly fill Seth's spot against Samoa Joe for Fastlane he knows he's probably going to have to eat another loss.

"Will you stop that?" Roman asks with mild annoyance when he pulls free.

"What?"

"I can practically _feel_ you thinking while I'm kissing you," Roman says, and Sami flushes a little.

"I'm sorry, I just—" he waves his hand aimlessly. "God, I'm being a mood-killer, aren't I?"

Roman catches his hand in mid air and brings it down between their bodies. "What does Hunter usually do to get you to stop?"

Sami blinks, caught off guard by the question. "Uhhh…."

"I'm sure he has ways of making you stop thinking and just enjoy the moment. So what is it?"

"He, uhh—" Sami swallows, trying to will his mouth to form the words. It's stupid to feel embarrassed about it when he's already slept with Roman, but he's never actually shared details of his own experiences with Hunter. "I…he makes me go down on him, usually."

"That'll stop you _talking_ , for sure…" Roman smirks. "But does it get you to stop thinking and drifting off?"

"Well…having a dick in my mouth forces me to focus," Sami says, feeling the color rush to his cheeks even as he says the words. "There's a sense purpose there, you know? There's an endgame, and you wanna get there the best way possible—"

"Oh, just shut up and suck my dick, Zayn…" Roman pushes him down by the shoulders none-too-gently, throwing back the sheets to reveal his half-hard member poking above the waistband of his boxers.

Sami positions himself so he's lying across the bed, head nestled in Roman's lap as the bigger man leans back against the headboard. It doesn't take long to work Roman into full hardness with his hands and flicks of his tongue, and just when he senses Roman's starting to get impatient he encloses the head of Roman's cock with his mouth and works his way down, sliding smoothly all the way until his nose is nestled against Roman's pubic hair.

" _Fuck…"_ Roman gasps and reaches down to ruffle Sami's hair. "You don't do anything half-assed, do you?"

Sami smiles, as much as he can around Roman's length, starting to work his rhythm up and down, closing his eyes in concentration. He's good at this—he knows he is, Hunter's told him as much many times, and he notes with satisfaction that blowjobs don't seem to have an equivalent to ring rust.

Roman's not content to just lay back and enjoy the treatment, however, evident by how his hand has traveled down Sami's back and is now pushing an insistent finger at Sami's entrance. He shifts a little to let Roman in, still slick and loose from last night and rubbing his own erection against the mattress, moaning around Roman's dick as a thick finger enters him.

He licks a bead of pre-cum off the tip of Roman's length before sinking down on him again, already on edge thinking of how good it's going to feel having Roman inside him again, spurred on by the finger preparing him for the inevitable intrusion.

"Wanna see you ride me…" Roman says as he fetches a condom from the side table with his other hand.

Sami lets Roman's cock slip out of his mouth and licks his lips. "So I gotta do all the work now?"

"Trust me, I'll make it worth your while…" Roman smirks as he hands the torn foil packet to Sami.

Sami helps him slide the condom down Roman's hard length and positions himself, Roman's big hands steadying him by the hips. He stares down as he angles himself, fascinated by the sight of Roman's tan, thick fingers splayed against his paler flesh, then having to close his eyes as he slowly, slowly sinks himself down.

"Fuuuck…." Sami lets out a breathless whine as he fully seats himself on Roman's dick, the heat at their point of contact spreading to every extremity of his body, to the very tips of his nerves. "So good…"

"I try, Zayn, I try." Roman says dryly before he starts moving, guiding Sami's pace gently with hands on his hips.

Sami braces his hands on Roman's chest, pale fingers dancing in the ink and sweat, watching Roman's beautiful face as dark, deep eyes stare up at him.

It's nothing like last night, when they were still high on adrenaline and clumsy with fatigue, Roman taking from behind before Sami had even properly worked his pants off. It was good, it was fucking _great_ , but Sami relishes getting to enjoy every move, every breath they make together in the stillness of the cold morning air, pale winter light painting Roman's golden skin in bluish highlights.

Roman pulls him forward, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit Sami's prostate and Sami moans shamelessly, a long note that ends abruptly when Roman kisses him. They ride it out like that, trading wet, swollen kisses as Sami lies on top of Roman like dead weight, melting into him, every thrust drawing a little whimper from his throat that Roman sucks into his own.

"Ro…" Sami gasps weakly.

"Yeah…" Roman says, not even needing to hear the rest of the words. His hand snakes down between their bodies and finds Sami's own cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.

It doesn't take long, Roman feels so good inside him and his hands are like magic, and Sami soon comes apart, shooting into Roman's fist, his mouth open and pressed against Roman's neck.

Roman stops moving for a while to let him come down from it, thumb still working Sami's sensitive slit to tease the very last drops out of him.

"Oh, God…" Sami mutters when he finds his voice again. His throat feels raw, there's blood pounding in his ears and his limbs feel like jelly.

Roman lifts his messy, come-stained hand to his face and licks a thick bead of it off his own thumb, the sight of it nearly sending Sami into blackout. When Roman offers his hand to him, it seems the most natural thing to do to let out his tongue and lick, tasting himself against the salty sweat of Roman's hand.

He doesn't even realize Roman's started moving again, resuming his steady rhythm, Sami's world narrowed to two points of contact—the hard heat of Roman inside him and the slick, tangy rub of Roman's digits in his mouth, feeding him his own release.

"Dirty little babyface…" Roman says with a hint of amusement. "Not so innocent after all, are you?"

"N-never said I was, _fuck—"_ Sami hisses as Roman picks up his pace, clearly on the verge himself. "There's a lot you haven't seen, Big Dog."

"I bet Daddy's seen it all," Roman growls, the hand still on Sami's hip gripping hard enough to bruise. "Bet you're dying to show him again, aren't you?"

"I'll show both of you…" Sami says as he finishes licking Roman's index finger, shaking with the force of what he knows are Roman's last few, deep thrusts.

"C-counting on it," Roman grits out, then throws his head back as he bucks his hips up and comes. The force of it pitches Sami forward onto Roman's chest, gasping as he feels Roman coming inside him. He's mouthing kisses against Roman's ink as he rides it out, mouth wet with his own taste and Roman's sweat.

He never wants to be cold again.

—

Hunter's phone buzzes as he walks down the corridor to the meeting, and he flicks it open with one hand as he shifts the folder containing the Elimination Chamber rundown sheets under his arm—

—and nearly drops both the folder and his phone onto the floor of the arena.

 _Those naughty little bastards._

The picture doesn't show any faces—they've wisened a little after the whole Seth debacle—but he knows exactly what he's seeing. Two bodies lying together, spent cocks nestled against each other, one darker in tone, the other paler against a bed of reddish curls, streaks of sweat and semen still visible on two muscled torsos.

Hunter's _own_ cock instantly takes interest, and he has to summon all the willpower in the world to quell it, knowing he'll have to jerk off in his hotel room later tonight to that picture, hands already aching to touch his boys again.

 _You two are so getting spanked on Monday Night. -H_

He doesn't have to wait long for the reply.

 _Sami's game—he says you never done it to him before. -R_

He has to smile a little. At least Roman's in a good mood and Sami seems to be feeling playful, which guarantees Hunter that he has everything to look forward to when he gets done with this PPV and gets his ass over to Vegas. Just one more night.

 _Tell him: first time for everything. -H_

He pauses in front of the door to the meeting room, schooling his features back into something reasonably _businesslike_ , pushing the thought of Sami and Roman—and that damn photo—to the back of his mind.

He won't read Roman's reply until much later, just before the pre-show kicks off.

 _Just make sure it's not his last. -R_


	3. When The Shield Breaks - 2014

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS:** **Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** This chapter explores the beginning of Roman and Hunter's relationship, right after the destruction of the Shield on RAW, the night after Payback. Featuring a cameo from Seth Rollins and hints of past Ambrolleigns, but mostly just Hunter going after what he wants...and getting what he wants.

.

.

.

.

.

Contrary to what most people will undoubtedly think of him—if they ever find out, that is—Hunter doesn't do this just because he _can_.

Being the brains behind the Performance Center and in charge of NXT doesn't mean he gets a free pass to fuck any piece of ass he wants from developmental, even though he's sure that there are people within the system who think that way, convinced that Full Sail is just spilling over with hot young talent eager to please the King of Kings.

He'll confess to being an egotistical bastard at times, but not _that_ kind.

He takes his job very seriously, hours in meetings debating which talents to push, which talents to move up to the main roster and in what manner, and who needs more time to hone their skills. Sometimes the decision is taken from him completely, through injury or circumstance or because Vince is having one of his 'why the heck not' moments, reminding Hunter rather painfully that even this high up in the company ladder there are still things that are beyond his control, directions he can't quite take the company yet because someone else is still holding the reins.

So he keeps his eyes on his young hopefuls, sheltering them as best he can from the capriciousness that sometimes tears through the company's decision-makers like freak waves, knowing his protection will mean little once they're shoved before the eyes of the WWE Universe. They will make it or break it out there, amassing wins and losses and bruises aplenty, and in each of their eyes Hunter sees the future—he really _does_ , there's nothing he believes in more these days.

It's just that he sees _more_ in the eyes of some.

In Seth Rollins, he saw a rogue shooting star. Bright and reckless, long-limbed and graceful, the smoothness of his technique counterpointed with the gravel snarl and the brash attitude. The minute he arrived in Florida, it was obvious that Seth had bought early bird tickets to his own victory parade, and Hunter had to step in to make sure the boy didn't go supernova prematurely, destroying himself and everyone near him in the process. Seth needed to be _tamed_ , brought down a few pegs every now and then, every mark of Hunter's hands on him a new lesson in discipline and restraint. Being the over-achiever he was, of course Seth excelled in those lessons too—even if he took a lot of teaching. Hunter made sure the little bastard knew there was no way he was getting the NXT belt on him until he'd proven that he could keep his pride in check.

Seth loves being good at things, being told how good he is, he'd sink himself low and lick his own come off the floor if it got him praise and Hunter's fingers through his hair. He'll bitch and moan and complain all the way but Hunter knows he loves it, keeps coming back for more, keeps upping the ante by baiting and teasing. But as dirty and kinky as they get it's a relatively straightforward relationship, especially compared to some of Hunter's other dalliances.

Sami Zayn arrived like a red streak trailing a golden sunrise, warm and energetic, and he had Hunter's attention from the first time he wrestled without his mask. Sami didn't need much coaching—he knew how to work a promo, how to present himself, and in the ring he knew how to tell a story with nothing more than a look in his eyes and a shift in his stance. Hunter appreciated that in someone so young, how Sami could marry finesse and technique with rage and passion, how he wrestled each night like it would be his last time. Heart and soul of NXT, indeed. Sami craved respect and Hunter gave it to him, the night after the first NXT live event and his match with Cesaro. Took him aside and told him how proud he was, held that trembling, sweating body close and whispered a secret promise in his ear, one he'd keep once the crowds went home and the cameras stopped rolling.

Sami was _unique_ , which is a shit way to describe someone so intriguing. He wasn't really a submissive per se but he liked to play, liked to entertain Hunter's ideas and Hunter found him pleasant to be around, period. Sami, who knew where to get the best coffee in twenty cities spread across three continents. Sami, who didn't ask to hear stories about the Kliq or DX like the others, but wanted to know everything about hanging out with Motorhead and Hunter's favorite classic rock songs. Sami, who still blushes when he hears praise or the crowd singing his theme song but burns like molten steel when you book him against an opponent he can really go the distance with.

Whenever Sami came to him with that _need_ in his eyes, it's never about being taken down or reminded of his place like Seth. Sami knew exactly where he stood, how he got there, was so painfully lucid about anything and everything that sometimes, he just needed to forget. Needed to not think anymore, needed his mile-a-minute brain to be forced to submit to baser purposes. Nine times out of ten, it was about Kevin. Kevin, who wears Sami's bruises the way Sami wears his. Kevin, who is simultaneously Sami's best friend and his on-screen nemesis, inhabiting that role for so long that Hunter was genuinely shocked when Kevin cornered him one night and politely—but menacingly—told him that he would come after Hunter, job relationship be damned, if he ever hurt Sami.

Hunter never asks about the true circumstances of their relationship—it seems complicated enough that not even Sami can unravel the knots. He just knows that whenever Sami is with him, the last thing he wants to think about is Kevin. And Hunter's more than happy to help him in that regard, take Sami places he's never known both in mind and body, cover the bruises and marks Kevin left with his own, things that show on Sami's flesh the next day and doesn't fade for weeks. Hunter doesn't get to devote half us much time to Sami as he does with Seth, not with his schedule, but he tries to make each time count, wants Sami to know he's never forgotten, never far from Hunter's mind even when they've hardly touched for months.

And then…there's Roman Reigns.

Hunter first took notice of the latest entry in the Anoa'i legacy when he was still wrestling out of the old FCW warehouse, in trunks that barely covered that sweet, succulent ass of his, technique still raw and rough around the edges. Roman had a way of making himself unmissable, despite his limited experience, carrying himself with grace and holding his own in the ring against the likes of his future Shield brothers.

He was beautiful, that was for damn sure, but there was nothing about him that called out to Hunter in particular, none of Seth's doe-eyed neediness or Sami's endearing complexity. Hunter was content to learn about Roman through the coaching reports, each of them filled with glowing assessments that the boy could be groomed into the face of the company, could carry the flag for many years to come.

When The Shield finally made their way to the main roster, Hunter watched with great pleasure as the three men blossomed into Superstars, each adding their own unique touch into the cocktail mix of violence and brotherly affection that was fast becoming one of the company's biggest draws. Roman was a juggernaut, six-foot-plus of raw power and muscle, ready to step in with a well-timed punch whenever his high-flying, risk-taking brothers got into trouble. He was The Big Dog who growled and scowled and speared everybody in half, who spoke little and hit hard. He seemed almost unflappable.

That impression lasted until the Shield vs Evolution storyline started, and Hunter got a closer look at the supposed alpha of the Hounds of Justice.

To be precise, Hunter got a closer look at him on his hands and knees, crawling brokenly across the ring after one too many Pedigrees and powerbombs, bleeding from the mouth, one arm flailing to reach for the tips of Hunter's shoes before his strength gave out and his hand fell onto the mat. Hunter's world seemed to slow down at that very moment, Randy and Dave's taunting laughter fading into the background, as did the sight of Dean and Seth lying motionless in the corners. All he saw was Roman Reigns, eyes desperate and glassy, breathing ragged from his bruised chest, the sound of it setting a chain reaction in Hunter, shutting down logic and decency whilst awakening his baser, more animalistic instincts.

One second, Hunter was thinking what a damn good seller the kid was, the next second he was picturing how good it would feel to drag Roman up by the hair, force his mouth open and push his cock into those thick, swollen, blowjob-perfect lips.

Long story short, it was the closest Hunter had come to being charged with public indecency since his antics in DX.

Later, he'd drag Seth into the VIP showers in the arena and fuck him against the wall under the hot spray, Seth wailing and clawing at his back as Hunter pounded into him with no preamble, no games or rules or stipulations.

"What's got in to you, Big Daddy?" Seth would rasp as they lay on the cold tile floor afterwards, still catching his breath. "Not that I'm complaining, but…holy shit, that was some next level stuff, and I've been fucking you for _years…_ "

"Shut up," Hunter said, wiping Seth's come off his chest and soaping them both clean.

"Oh, oh—" Seth exclaimed, his voice acquiring that annoying sing-song tone. "It's because of Roman, isn't it?"

Hunter's head snapped up, caught off guard. The little two-toned bastard was smirking at him, eyes glimmering.

"Yeah, I saw how you were looking at him…had one eye open the whole time I was supposed to be out after that Powerbomb,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hunter said as he soaped down Seth's long, muscled legs. Roman's legs were definitely bigger, his thighs thicker, and Hunter wondered how they would feel under his hands.

"Don't lie, I know how you get when someone's at your feet like that, especially someone who looks like Roman…" Seth teased. "He's beautiful, ain't he Daddy?"

Hunter sighed, hanging his head under the spray of rapidly cooling water. "Yes…"

"You want him?" Seth asked. "He knows about us, you know…"

"Yeah, I figured you had to tell both him and Ambrose where the hell you fucked off to anytime you disappeared from the hotel for a night," Hunter said. "Although…judging by how much less you're doing it these days, I suppose they're keeping you occupied."

Seth cocked his head to one side, curling his lips inward. "They're…we…the stuff we do is pretty, well, tame. Dean and Roman combined aren't half as kinky as you are, Big Daddy."

Hunter had to smile at that, standing up and pulling Seth with him. Seth's body was lithe, lean, it suited his high-flying style and gave Hunter a bit of an edge in strength, and Seth happily made a show out of melting into his embrace like jelly, purring like a kitten.

"You didn't answer my question…" Seth said as he nipped at Hunter's chin. "Do you want Roman?"

"What if I do?"

Seth shrugged. "That sits just fine with me… although, don't expect me to do you any favors. You wanna go after him, you figure out how yourself."

Hunter grabbed him by the chin. "Last I checked, I never _needed_ any help getting what I want, Seth…"

Seth licked his lips deviously. "Good hunting, Big Daddy. You're stalking after big game, here."

—

In hindsight, if Hunter had known that Seth was alluding to more than just Roman's size, he probably would've stopped and evaluated his attempts at conquest.

Probably.

Probably _not._

He was just a man, after all, and Roman was so god damn intoxicating.

The way he looked up at Hunter as he fisted a hand in Roman's thick hair, grunting threats of violence and destruction into the microphone, so close that each of Roman's labored breaths blew across his face like an invitation.

The way Roman stared at the blood spatter he'd coughed into his own palm, lying facedown in the wake of another Evolution beatdown.

The broken, guilty look in his eyes as he'd crawled towards Seth and Dean's prone bodies at ringside, collecting them into his embrace, patting them down for bruises.

Hunter wanted him _bad_ , the desire building and burning brighter even as the clock ticked down to The Shield's inevitable destruction. He tried to keep it strictly professional in the ring, even as the brawls between their two factions intensified. When Randy tore a gash in Roman's forehead, Seth refused to have sex with him for a week, which only served to heighten Hunter's frustrations. He knew that once Seth had jumped sides he could have the little bastard anytime he wanted, with the storyline demanding that Seth be physically separated from the other two to get their headspaces realigned, but it was Roman who occupied his thoughts, his jerkoff sessions filled with images of inked arms looped around his neck, strong thighs wrapped around his waist and a tight, pulsing hole milking his cock.

Then came the night he stood over Roman and Dean's bodies, his arm around Seth's shoulders, the crowd roaring with howls of derision as Seth shook in his embrace, lips quivering as he struggled not to break character. There was genuine regret there, fear that he might have hit one or both of them too hard, disbelief that the moment had finally come, overwhelmed by the realization of what had been ended in one swift, brutal swing of a steel chair.

Randy and Hunter had to physically coax Seth up the ramp, step by agonizing step, as the boy kept looking back at his brothers' broken bodies in the ring, the look in his eyes so conflicted that Hunter knew he wasn't merely selling the angle.

Backstage, away from the cameras and locked inside Hunter's private dressing room, Seth finally crumbled, sobbing ugly and messy against both Randy and Hunter's shoulders, anxious to know how Roman and Dean were doing but realizing he couldn't ask them himself, the separation they'd discussed for weeks now suddenly, painfully real.

Hunter had to give Randy credit for stepping up in that moment—The Viper didn't normally bother with niceties and kindness, and he hadn't shown any gentleness the few times that Hunter had shared Seth with him. This particular night he seemed to understand the weight of the situation, gathering Seth onto his lap as they sat on the couch in the dressing room, cooing murmurs into his ear, hand brushing away sweat-damp strands of two-toned hair. Seth clung to Randy like his life depended on it, eyes drooping as he kitten-licked the sweat off Randy's collarbone. Hunter had never seen Seth go down that easily before, pliant and tame almost as soon as Randy pulled him in close, and he exchanged a knowing look with his Evolution stablemate.

"You take care of him, yeah?" Hunter said as he gathered his belongings. "I gotta check on the other two."

"Yeah, this one's with me tonight," Randy said as he patted Seth's rump affectionately. "Ain't that right, baby?"

Seth sniffled and nodded, burrowing deeper into Randy's chest as Hunter threw one last look at them before walking out the door.

—

Hunter caught up with Ambrose in a deserted corner of the parking lot, bags at his feet and a cigarette twirled between his fingers. Any other time, he would've scolded Dean for smoking within company perimeters, but he figured he could cut the Lunatic Fringe some slack tonight. Dean's fingers were twitching, his shoulders tight with anxiety, three stubs already crumpled at his feet.

"All in a night's work, right?" he muttered with a thin, bitter smile when he saw Hunter.

"You okay?" Hunter asked.

"I've had worse," Dean shrugged. "Chairs are more forgiving than barbed wire or broken glass."

Hunter winced—he'd seen the old CZW tapes, back when they were still assessing Dean for recruitment. He remembered thinking what a miracle it was that Dean was even alive and functioning.

"How's the little two-toned weasel?" Dean asked, the affection for Seth bleeding through his voice.

"A wreck," Hunter said truthfully. "He'll need some time to adjust…you all do."

"Nah, I'm good to go, Trips…" Dean took another long drag of his cigarette. "Gonna have some fun with Seth in the coming weeks, judging by the scripts I've been sent. Don't worry about me,"

"You sure? Did you get the trainers to check on you?"

"I just need a couple of beers, some food, and some much-needed downtime," Dean stared out into the emptying parking lot. "Like I said, I've had worse."

Hunter could tell Dean was antsy to be left alone, so he changed the subject. "Where's Roman?"

"Trainers drove him back to the hotel," Dean said as he flicked his cigarette onto the ground, stomping it with his foot.

"Shit, why? Something wrong with him?"

Dean's head snapped in his direction, eyes wild and angry. "You tell me, Boss…he took a couple dozen hits from kendo sticks last night, a few Pedigrees, some RKOs, maybe a Powerbomb or two for good measure—oh, and probably enough chairshots tonight to send us back to the Attitude Era! Why would you _think_ there's something fucking wrong with him?"

Hunter sighed. "Fuck, Ambrose…calm down, okay? Didn't mean it like that."

Dean deflated visibly, shoving his hands into his pockets, eyes staring at the pavement.

"Look, I know you're still processing it in your head, everything that went down tonight, just—" Hunter scratched the back of his head. "Walk it off, or do whatever you need. You and Roman have the rest of the week off. Just get it out of your system before the next show,"

"Yeah, yeah…" Dean shuffled uncomfortably. "Do what's best for business, right?"

Hunter ignored the taunt. "What's your room number?"

Dean stopped moving, icy blue eyes staring right at Hunter as if getting ready to pounce on him again.

"Dean…I need to check on Roman," Hunter said calmly, as if confronting a wounded animal. "What's your room number?"

"It's…327," Dean finally blurted out.

"Thanks," Hunter said and turned to walk away before the erratic blonde could say anything more.

He felt Dean's eyes on his back the entire time, wondering if Dean knew about Hunter's recent infatuation with Roman, if Seth had told him anything.

—

Hunter was standing in front of the door numbered 327 and had just finished knocking three times, when his phone buzzed with a text message from Randy.

 _Got the lil prince sound asleep after a few rounds to take his mind off things. You going after the big one, arent u?_

Hunter scowled and typed a quick: _Mind your own fucking business, Orton_ just as he heard the locks being undone on the other side.

And then he found himself face-to-face with Roman Reigns, in a loose-fitting tank top and sweatpants, hair pulled back into a ponytail, eyes wide with surprise to see Hunter there.

"Hey…" Hunter started awkwardly.

"Uh…hi," Roman said, his voice low and labored. "You…came to get Seth's things? He left some in the room,"

"Did he? I'll send someone to get them in the morning," Hunter said as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "Actually, came here to check on you. Dean said the trainers drove you back,"

"Oh…" Roman said, still holding the door halfway open. "Yeah, I kind of…when they were examining me back at the arena, I kinda got sick and threw up all over the place."

"Shit, are you ok?"

"It's nothing, really…" Roman shrugged, but the movement caused him to grimace in pain. "Happens sometimes when…after nights like this, when shit gets intense."

"I see…"

"The doctors didn't find anything wrong, and they gave me some fluids before driving me back, so I'm fine now," Roman said quickly. "But…thanks for checking up on me,"

He started to close the door but Hunter held it open. "Wait, Roman…"

Roman could've shut the door in his face if he wanted to, there was enough strength even in that bruised and battered body to do so, but he let Hunter push the door fully open, inching forward slightly into his space.

"Let me see it, okay?" Hunter kept his voice low, unthreatening, as far as possible from the deep growl he used on the mic to antagonize his opponents. "Let me take a good look at your back,"

He had no business asking Roman for this, not even with his position in the company. Roman could tell him as much and send him on his way, and that would be the end of it. But the younger man relented, stepping back into the room and allowing Hunter to follow inside, Roman walking gingerly on his stiff and sore limbs, looking suddenly extremely self-conscious.

The lights were dimmed and the TV was off, and Roman's phone lay connected to a charging socket on the desk. The beds were unmade but clearly hadn't been slept on—he was probably still in too much pain to lie down. Roman's bags were already packed, perhaps out of habit, even though neither he nor Dean were scheduled to appear on SmackDown. Hunter couldn't help but notice that Seth's luggage had been shuffled to one corner of the room, like something Roman wanted to forget.

Rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, Hunter sat down on one of the beds, patting the space beside him, closer to the headboard where the light was better. "C'mere…"

He tried not to let it get to him, how quickly Roman complied, how unquestioningly he moved to sit down beside Hunter, his weight sinking into the hard hotel mattress.

"Take this off…" Hunter tugged at the hem of the tank top, pulling it upwards gently. Roman lifted his arms with much effort, sharp intakes of breath signaling how much pain he was in, Hunter helping him pull the garment over his head as Roman's back was laid bare for him to see.

 _Jesus fucking Christ._

It was worse than Hunter had imagined. The thinner welts were no doubt from Sunday night at Payback, when Randy and Dave had gone to town on him with kendo sticks, but the uglier, larger bruises that were starting to stain the Samoan's skin purple were from tonight. He could see the burst blood vessels, blossoming angrily under Roman's flesh, and in some places the cuts were still open, red and raw and undoubtedly painful.

"Fuck…" he couldn't help but mutter. "How are you even moving around, I have no idea…"

"Painfully," Roman offered a weak chuckle as he drew his ponytail aside to drape over one shoulder, exposing the long tan neck that Hunter wanted to sink his teeth into, desire sparking somewhere deep in his chest.

"Does it hurt when you breathe? Did they check for anything internal?" Hunter realized he was fussing over Roman, perhaps unnecessarily, but it was the least he could do. Some of those bruises were of _his_ making, after all.

"Yeah, s'all good, it's just…" Roman winced as he flexed his left shoulder, the one left uninked. "Gonna take a while before I can spear anyone convincingly again."

"You nearly broke me in half with that last one yesterday," Hunter said.

Roman looked over his shoulder, glancing at Hunter with one eye. "I was…I could barely stand at that point, we'd been going for what, half an hour?"

"Yeah,"

"That last spot came up so fast, and before I knew it Seth was off the ropes—and I just had to come at you with everything, couldn't even think…" Roman's voice trailed off as he reminisced, the pleasant memory of winning souring as his eyes dimmed, remembering what had become of his little stable. "I'm gonna miss that…"

"What, spearing me? I'm sure you'll get plenty of chances in the future," Hunter half-joked.

Roman turned around to face him, meeting his gaze for a split second before lowering his eyes. "No, I meant…the three of us. The Shield. Working together in a ring like that. Setting each other up, stringing those moves together… hearing the crowd pop when he hit those spots."

Hunter nodded sympathetically, placing one hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It's gonna take some time to get used to…"

Roman's eyes darted towards the other bed in the room. "He slept there last night…" he said wistfully. "Curled up with Dean, all three of us sore and bruised as fuck… he kept telling us over and over how he wished we had a little more time, just a little bit longer…"

Hunter caressed Roman's shoulder gently, thumb moving up towards the base of his neck. "And how'd you guys deal with that?"

Roman sniffled, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Dean…well, Dean smacked his ass and told him he'd better swing those chairs hard and sell the fuck out of the whole betrayal segment, or else he'd regret ever being in The Shield at all."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Yeah…sounds like a typical Ambrose response."

"Dean's good at stuff like that," Roman said. "You wouldn't think it by the look of him, but he just…he shrugs it off and keeps going. Eyes on the prize, or whatever the endgame is…"

Hunter knew the opposite was true, the Dean Ambrose he'd encountered earlier in the parking lot was clearly not managing to shrug the whole thing off just yet, but Roman didn't need to know that.

"Some people are just better at compartmentalizing," Hunter said as he reached up with his other hand, fingers brushing gently against the ridged stitches sealing the gash just above Roman's right eye, a souvenir left by Randy not too long ago. "I still haven't forgiven Randy for this, by the way…"

Roman blinked at him. "Wh—why?"

"On a professional level, it's injury to a colleague—" Hunter traced the stitches with his thumb. "On a personal level, Seth was so pissed off on your behalf that he didn't let me near his ass for a week,"

Roman snorted, eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter. "That's—wow, what do you even call that? Second-hand cockblocking?"

"I believe his term for it was ' _storyline-appropriate cockblocking_ '…" Hunter said.

"Oh my God," Roman rolled his eyes. "That insufferable little shit…"

"I know…" Hunter smirked. "Aren't you glad I'm taking him off your hands for the time being?"

Roman laughed for real then, the sound of it rumbling deeply from his chest, tempered only by the wheeze of pain as he clutched his ribs. He was still smiling when he looked up at Hunter, though, a sight that sent a warm surge of _something_ up Hunter's spine.

"Stop… _fuck_ , stop making me laugh."

"Sorry," Hunter said, taking in the close-up view of that blinding smile. "Was just trying to make you feel better about this whole thing…"

"Yea, well it's working…" Roman assured him. "Thanks."

"No problem," Hunter said. "Lemme help you with these bruises, ok? Trainers must have given you something…"

"Bruise salve, extra-strength, stings like a motherfucker…" Roman gestured at the side table, where the nondescript tub was sitting. "Unbranded. Physio probably mixed it up himself with some weird herbal hoodoo or something,"

"That's usually the good shit," Hunter said as he retrieved the tub. "Over-the-counter stuff just won't do. Can you lie down for me?"

He stood up to give Roman some room to maneuver, admiring the sight it presented to him. Roman lay flat on his stomach, head cushioned on a pillow and turned to one side, his bruise-covered back rising up and down as he breathed. The waistband of his sweatpants hung slightly low, exposing the curve of his hip and the start of the swell of his ass.

He flinched at the first touch of Hunter's salve-covered fingers against his flesh, starting at the largest of the bruises. "Fuuuck…"

"I'm not pressing too hard or anything, am I?" Hunter said as he began to work the salve in.

"It's…it's gonna hurt no matter what, so—" Roman gritted out. "Just ignore me, yeah? Being a bit of a wimp here,"

The thing was, Roman was making these soft little whimpers and noises that were impossible for Hunter to ignore—rather, they shot straight to his dick. Fighting to keep his touch steady as he worked his fingers on Roman's flesh, Hunter could feel the younger man's body heat even through the chemical heat of the salve, the skin having more yield to it than he'd anticipated.

"Damn, you got big hands…" Roman blurted out as Hunter massaged down one side of his ribcage.

"I've had my hands all over you for weeks, Reigns…" Hunter said, putting just a bit more pressure into his touch. "You're only realizing it now?"

"Hard to— _oww,_ hard to appreciate the size of man's hands when you're taking the Pedigree," Roman grunted against the pillow.

Hunter considered his next words carefully. Roman was relaxed and accommodating, even a little playful. Surely it wouldn't hurt to push his luck _just_ a little.

"You like it better when I'm touching you like this?" he said as he purposely let his hands drift low, on the pretense of rubbing the salve into the bruises at the small of Roman's back.

Roman inhaled sharply, eyes squeezed shut, hips rising slightly off the bed. "Yeah…" he sighed, an almost resigned tone to his voice.

Hunter smiled, letting his hand travel up Roman's spine. "I like it better, too…"

When he finished his handiwork, Hunter leaned in close to Roman's ear and whispered, "Stay here while I wash my hands, okay?"

Roman nodded, a wordless noise esecaping his mouth, eyelids heavy and his expression content. Hunter couldn't help but smile at that, knowing his touch had put the boy at ease, as he rose off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Washing his hands clean off the residual salve—he didn't want any of it on his fingers with where he was planning to put them next—he looked up and took in his own reflection in the mirror. Hunter still had a black eye from Payback the previous night, barely recalling who'd put it there. Roman, probably, with a Superman Punch or two—Dean's elbow strikes were never that stiff and Seth chose to fight with his feet most of the time. The obvious bulge tenting his trousers was unsightly, but Roman didn't need to see it—not yet, at least.

When he returned to the bedroom, at first he thought Roman had fallen asleep—his breathing was slow, regular, salve-slicked back glistening in the dim light. When he got closer he saw that the boy's eyes were open, staring blankly out from where he had one cheek pressed onto the pillow.

"Gonna get a crick in your neck if you sleep like that," Hunter said as he sat on the bed, closer up to Roman's head.

"S'not like I have a choice…" Roman muttered.

With his now clean fingers, Hunter pulled back some of the strands of hair that fell across Roman's face, tucking them behind his ear. Roman looked blissed out, and a little expectant, so Hunter decided to go a little further. Leaning down, careful not to put any pressure on Roman's back, he brushed his lips against the younger man's temple, hand moving down to Roman's chin.

Roman breathed sharply, turning his head towards Hunter's inquiring mouth. Emboldened, Hunter started pecking light kisses from Roman's forehead down to the hollow of his cheek, delighting in the flutter they produced in the younger man's form. This close, this intimate, he could sense even the most minuscule shifts in the other's body, the pace of his breathing and the throb of his pulse. Gently, with his hand cupping Roman's chin, he turned the boy's face towards him and kissed him on the mouth.

There was an instant surge of heat when he did so, a shudder that traveled up Roman's spine and into his own body, lips quickly shifting from exploratory to possessive latching. Without breaking the kiss, Hunter maneuvered himself so he was lying next to Roman, both of them on their sides, his hands keeping the boy's head in place as the kiss grew hotter and heavier. Roman moaned, the sound of it equal parts sweet and shameless, as Hunter dove his tongue into his mouth.

He'd never gone this slow with anyone before—not Sami, _definitely_ not Seth, but it felt right with Roman. Hunter was enjoying himself more than he thought he would, loving how slowly but surely Roman opened up to him, letting him get closer, tighter, deeper. He looped his arms under Roman's and drew him close, mindful of the state of his back, and Roman's own hands started traveling up and down his chest, as if feeling out his body.

When Hunter pulled back and opened his eyes, the sight that welcomed him was nearly his undoing.

Roman had _those_ eyes, the same eyes that had stared up at Hunter as he crawled towards him on the mat, wide and open and _desperate_ , eyes that had stirred something within him, something so deep and primal he'd never admit it in polite company, could barely admit it to himself. Roman was also breathing hard, each exhale hot and humid against Hunter's lips, the space between them thick with anticipation.

"Bed's too fucking small…" Hunter muttered. "Come up with me, I wanna do you proper on a nice big bed,"

Roman's eyelids fluttered at the suggestion. "Okay…"

It took every ounce of willpower in Hunter's body to pull away from Roman and get up, watching as Roman followed suit. The boy grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair and pulled it around his shoulders, leaving it unzipped and exposing his chest. Quietly, he grabbed his phone off the desk and followed Hunter outside the room, grabbing his keycard off the slot in the wall.

The ride up in the elevator took far too long than it should to ascend a mere fifteen levels, Hunter impatiently tapping the keycard of his suite against his thigh. He had one arm around Roman's waist, supporting some of the boy's weight, but he didn't dare make any more moves until they were safe inside his room. As tempting as Roman was, giving the Novotel night clerk a heart attack through CCTV footage—or worse yet, blackmail material—wasn't worth the risk.

Roman baulked at the foyer of the suite, staring around at the excessive amount of space. It was a far cry from the cramped accommodations he'd spent the last two years sharing with Seth and Dean, but Hunter quickly maneuvered him towards the bedroom. He sat at the foot of the king-sized bed, feeling how soft and plush it was compared to the beds in Roman's own room, and beckoned Roman towards him.

"C'mere…" he pulled Roman into the space between his slightly spread legs. Roman took the hint and clambered onto Hunter's lap, looping his arms around the back of the older man's neck as Hunter pulled him down for another kiss. He pulled the hoodie off Roman's shoulders with ease, throwing it to the floor and placing his hands on the firm globes of the Samoan's ass.

Hunter was in heaven—hands full of hot, yielding flesh, the weight of Roman grinding down on his lap and making his dick almost painfully hard, his tongue dancing with Roman's inside his mouth. Roman was so open and willing, so ripe for the taking, his every move communicating quiet agreement with whatever Hunter had in mind for him. It was the sort of subtle submission that drove Hunter crazy with want, mouth traveling lower to suck bruises into Roman's neck. One of his hands worked the hair tie loose from Roman's ponytail, letting his dark mane cascade loosely down his shoulders and back.

"I'm gonna try to put you down on your back, real slowly…" he whispered. "Okay, baby boy?"

Roman nodded, bottom lip held between his teeth. Then the nickname registered in his lust-fogged brain and he made a choked noise in his throat, hips grinding against Hunter shamelessly. Hunter could hardly believe his luck. Slowly, he turned around and lowered Roman onto the bed, hand cradling the back of his neck. Roman hissed as his back made contact with the mattress, but the soft surface gave under his weight and he soon looked a lot more comfortable, his dark eyes hazy and looking up at Hunter with expectation.

Hunter made quick work of their clothing, stripping himself off his dress shirt and trousers before getting back on the bed. Roman had nothing under his sweatpants and Hunter got his first real look at the boy's cock, slightly longer than his own but not as thick, curved slightly at the head, hot and heavy in his hand when he reached down to stroke it. Roman stared at the way Hunter was palming his cock with a look of bewilderment, as if not believing that this was really happening.

"You like that?" Hunter said as he stroked slowly.

"Mmm-hmm…" Roman mumbled. "Wanna see yours…"

Hunter smirked at the boy's eagerness and lowered the waistband of his briefs enough to let his dick out, stroking it alongside Roman's.

"Fuck…" Roman mumbled, hands reaching down to join Hunter's tentatively, fingers tangling against the hot, hard flesh of their lengths.

It felt insanely good to have Roman's hands on him, but Hunter hadn't planned on reaching his climax this way. Slowly, he withdrew from Roman's grasp and crawled further up the bed, straddling the younger man's chest. Roman's eyes grew huge as realization dawned on him, sinking further back into the pillows as Hunter held his dick in his hand, thumbing a bead of pre-cum from the tip.

"Open up, baby…" he coaxed gently, his other hand cupping the back of Roman's head. "Be a good boy for Daddy…"

Hunter's words seemed to strike Roman somewhere deep, his mouth opening up to take the head of Hunter's cock between his kiss-swollen lips as a moan tore from his throat, needy and hungry. Hunter's nerve endings sparked with electricity, his eyesight blurring as Roman sucked him hard yet slow, lips puckering perfectly around his cock, eyes looking up and searching Hunter's face for some kind of approval, filthy yet innocent at the same time.

"God, you're so—" Hunter rasped with barely-concealed admiration. "You're gonna kill me with those eyes one day, you know? Looking at me like that, all sweaty and gorgeous in the ring, crawling at me like you want to beg at my feet…"

Roman's response was to suck even harder, dark eyes misty with submission.

"Were you being a tease, baby boy? Were you trying to get at me?"

Roman shook his head, tongue lapping at the underside of Hunter's cock.

"No? But you like doing this, don't you? You like having Daddy's cock in your mouth, stuffing you full like this…"

Roman nodded, taking Hunter in so deep he gagged. He didn't try to pull off, though, just blinked the tears away from his eyes and continued sucking, determined to please his Daddy. Hunter would've enjoyed coming down his throat, enjoyed the sight of his seed leaking from the corners of Roman's wet, swollen mouth, but he had other ideas in mind about where he wanted to put his dick.

He pulled out of Roman and laid down beside him again, kissing his own taste off the boy's mouth as he reached for the bottle of lube he'd stashed in the drawers next to the bed. So far, Roman hadn't objected to anything, hadn't shown any signs of hesitation, not even when he could hear the bottle uncapping and saw the thick gob of gel Hunter was pouring into his hand.

"You've done this before?" Hunter said as he lowered his hand between Roman's legs, resting at the top of his thighs.

"I've had…fingers, mostly," Roman said, a little fidgety. "Dean and Seth—sometimes they'd do it while they sucked me off, but they never…"

"So all this time, you've been their big badass loverboy, fucking them with that beautiful dick of yours, but they never returned the favor?" Hunter asked.

Roman pushed playfully at his chest, color rising to his already-flushed cheeks. "You make that sound so horrible….no, it's just that…they never offered."

"And you never asked," Hunter said as he paused his fingers just outside Roman's hole, smearing the lube around the tightly-puckered rim.

Roman shook his head.

"Well, I'm asking now," Hunter said firmly.

Roman looked up at him then, the spark of something new and almost _dangerous_ flitting across his dark eyes. "Maybe…maybe I don't want you to ask," he whispered. "Maybe you should just…do it."

 _Holy shit_.

Hunter found himself somewhere between dumbfounded and aroused to no end, his finger starting to push into Roman before he could stop himself. Roman shifted, trying to take in more of the invading digit, both of them gasping at the heated contact.

"Next time…" Hunter fought to keep his voice level as he began to work Roman open. "Next time we'll discuss some rules—figure out what you like, what you don't, set some hard limits and how you can signal me if you want me stop…but for now, let me be a boring traditionalist and do it the old-fashioned way, yeah?"

Roman smiled and nodded. "Such a gentleman…Daddy."

"Oh, you won't be calling me a 'gentleman' when I'm done with you, baby boy…" Hunter smirked as he pushed his second finger in. "Love hearing you say 'Daddy', though…love how good you're being for me."

He could sense and feel Roman slipping under the more Hunter worked him, breathing heavy against him as Hunter busied himself sucking more marks into his neck, marking him up like property. There was none of Seth's defiance and brattiness in him, just a quiet yielding to Hunter's touch, trusting and beautiful. Hunter felt the possessiveness surge from deep within him, Roman so wanting and ready to be claimed, his every demeanor calling out to Hunter's desire to make Roman _his_.

When he finally knelt between Roman's spread legs, heaving the boy's hips to rest on his own, Roman looked wrecked and gone—eyes glazed over and hands limp at his sides.

"Gonna go slow, baby…" Hunter assured him as he angled the head of his cock at the rim of Roman's slick entrance. He pushed in, the impossibly tight flesh gripping him, one hand stroking Roman's muscled stomach to relax him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just…" Roman bit his lower lip, fighting to keep the pain off his face. "keep going."

Hunter pushed again, feeling the head of his cock finally breaching past the tight rim, the rest of his length sliding easier into Roman's body. He stopped again at about halfway in, checking Roman's body language for discomfort.

"Just a litte more, baby boy…" he said. "You're doing so good…"

Roman nodded and exhaled deeply, willing his body to relax. Hunter felt his inner muscles unclenching slightly and pushed further, finally seating himself fully inside Roman's tight, wet heat.

"There we go…" he leaned down and kissed Roman's forehead. "You're so tight, feel so good around me…"

Roman reached up to hang his arms around Hunter's neck, bringing him in close. "Full…I feel so full,"

"Gonna feel even better when I start moving…" Hunter rocked his hips slightly, like a promise. "Think you're ready?"

"Uh-huh…" Roman nodded his permission.

Hunter started slow, not wanting to aggravate the bruises on Roman's back, reminding himself that for all his willingness this was still a boy who'd taken a rough beating two nights in a row, probably aching in his joints more than he'd care to admit. Tomorrow, tomorrow Hunter intended to run him a hot bath, feed him a nice breakfast to fill him up, and explore what else Roman Reigns had to offer him. For now he just wanted to fuck his boy good, show him what he'd been missing, get him used and addicted to the feel of another man's cock inside him.

"Can I…can I touch myself, Daddy?" Roman asked, his voice raw and throaty.

"Yeah, go on…" Hunter said as he started to move faster, angling for Roman's sweet spot. "Let me see you work that dick while Daddy fucks you…"

Roman reached down with both hands and started jerking himself, Hunter's elbows bracketing his head on either side of the pillow. His open lips were inviting for another kiss and Hunter took it, swallowing the soft noises from Roman's throat as he rocked his cock deep, jabbing against Roman's prostate and causing him to mewl into Hunter's mouth.

He knew it couldn't last long, he was so keyed up from all their bantering and foreplay and Roman was so fucking gorgeous underneath him, working his cock furiously as Hunter drove into him over and over, both their bodies glistening with sweat. When Roman came, Hunter felt the wet splash of his seed against his stomach, the slick noises of Roman's hands milking himself finally tipping him over the edge. He thrust forward one last time, spilling deep inside Roman, teeth buried into the intricate ink on Roman's right shoulder. The boy was panting harshly against his ear, still coming down from his own release, heart beating fast and thumping against Hunter's chest.

He pulled out and laid himself out on his back next to Roman, staring up at the ceiling as he brought his own breathing back under control. Roman shuffled close, draping one arm tentatively across Hunter's chest as if unsure if the gesture would be welcome. Hunter quelled his doubts by pulling him close, letting Roman's head rest in the crook of his shoulder, hand stroking through the sweaty strands of dark, thick hair.

"You good?" he asked after a few moments' silence and Roman's breathing had steadied.

"Peachy…" Roman muttered. "Not sure how it'll be when I wake up, though—"

"You'll be sore," Hunter said truthfully. "No way getting around it."

"It'll be a good kind of sore," Roman said. "I like this better than you hitting me with a chair,"

"I like this better than you spearing me in half, too…" Hunter chuckled. "Funny business we're in, huh?"

"You know, Seth told me and Dean about…about you," Roman said against his chest. "This…this isn't what he described, though…"

Hunter pulled back slightly so he could look Roman in the eyes. "Seth is different. Each one of you is different, and your— _needs_ are different."

Roman blinked at him curiously. "So you'll treat us differently based on what we…need?"

"Well, let's just say that I…" he arched his brows deliberately. "I _adapt_."

Roman cuffed him in the chest, unable to stop himself laughing. "What the—Hunter, did you seriously just make an Evolution joke? You're fucking unbelievable, old man…"

Hunter simply drew him in tighter, feeling the pleasing rumble of Roman's laugh against his skin. "Yeah, I'm an old man who makes bad jokes, but I know how to make my boys feel good…"

"Hmmm…" Roman sighed happily against his neck. "Can't argue with that."

—

At the next Smackdown taping, Hunter stood with Seth in gorilla as they prepared for Seth's first post-Shield promo, the younger man shifting uncomfortably in his ill-fitting suit.

"We'll get some tailored up for you after tonight," Hunter assured him. "You're gonna look a million dollars, Seth…"

"Did you see the new ring gear they designed for me?" Seth said with exasperation. "I look like a goddamn fetish model!"

Hunter quirked an eyebrow at him. "And the problem with that is…?"

Seth scowled petulantly. "You kinky bastard, did you tell them to make it like that?"

Hunter shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I might have made a suggestion or two…"

Seth narrowed his eyes, but decided not to comment further.

As they stood waiting for their cue, Hunter leaned in close and whispered, "By the way…you didn't tell me Roman was a virgin…"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic…" Seth rolled his eyes. "He's fucked plenty of girls and he's fucked me and Dean senseless numerous times…he's just never taken it up the ass."

Hunter stayed quiet, waiting for Seth to catch up. When he did, Seth's expression was _priceless._ "Holy shit, you fucking _beast_ …"

Hunter smiled as their cue hit, shoving Seth forward through the curtains.


	4. Takeover Dallas - 2016

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** Man, this one got real angsty. I needed a chapter to work out some of the more emotional beats in this epic mess of headfuckery, before delving back into the twisty filth that I seem so fond of. For now, enjoy Daddy Hunter's internal struggles and Sami Zayn being the pure ray of human sunshine we all know he is.

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"You must think I'm a real asshole…" Hunter sighed as he leaned his head back against the rim of the bathtub. "I barely say anything to you for months, and the one night you should be resting up from one hell of a match and preparing for __another__ match, I drag you up here…"

"I wouldn't be here if I thought that way," Sami said quietly, his movements creating small ripples in the water of the tub. "Besides, you keep looking at me like you did back there, you're welcome to drag me anywhere…"

Hunter smiled, letting his gaze wander up to the bathroom ceiling. He was seated on the floor next to the tub, still half-dressed, feeling the hard press of the cold tile floors under him. He hadn't been the one wrestling that night but he felt a strange ache in his joints nonetheless, worn out after hours in the production booth and calling out cues as his NXT stars took Dallas by storm. The crowd had been absolutely out of this world, screaming themselves hoarse match after match, white-hot from the start all the way down the main event, every noise fed into his earpiece making him long to actually be out there and see it happen with his own eyes.

And Sami, his pride and joy, his Little Red Sunshine, had blown the roof clean off the building in his match against Nakamura, going so hard and so strong, and looking so damn beautiful that Hunter's heart was fit to burst out of his chest when the boy had limped back into gorilla afterwards.

"I'm so proud of you, Sami…" Hunter reached over to stroke the moss of red hair on the younger man's head, wetting the sleeve of his shirt in the hot water Sami was soaking in. "I know I've said it already, but damn…that thing was fucking magic, what you and Shin did out there."

Sami, smiling despite the exhaustion Hunter knew must be setting deep in his bones, leaned into his touch like an affectionate pet. "Shin's amazing…"

"So are you," Hunter said. "You're fucking amazing, Red…"

"If I'm so amazing, then why are you sitting out there and not in here with me?" Sami inquired playfully.

Hunter quirked an eyebrow at him. "The plan was to get you a nice hot bath to relax, then get some decent food in you, then make sure you get a good night's sleep before Wrestlemania. I get into this tub, at least one of that ain't happening."

"I'm changing the plan…" Sami said as he pulled his body close to the edge of the tub, sending water cascading over the rim and wetting Hunter even further, which he didn't seem to pay any mind to at all. "I think I've earned it."

He paused to let his chin rest on the ceramic rim, close enough for Hunter to feel Sami's breath on the side of his face. The air was quiet, save for the ripple of water and the muted noise of traffic from somewhere out the window, the hum of the building's generators reverberating in that low-key depth that nobody tended to notice. Hunter could hear every little noise though, his senses extremely keyed up for some reason, probably because he'd been training and working out intensely to prepare for his match with Roman.

 _ _Roman__.

"Something's bothering you…" Sami said close to his ear. "I can tell."

"I'm sorry, Red…" Hunter said as he turned to look at the boy, at the deep eyes that always seemed to look through him. It felt wrong for him to even be __thinking__ of Roman right now—for Sami to have anything less than his undivided attention. "You deserve better,"

"Maybe…" Sami shrugged. "I still want __you__ , though."

Hunter reached over and drew Sami in gently with a hand at the back of his scalp, fingers pressing into reddish strands as he kissed his boy, slow and rather chaste, feeling the other's mouth with his lips, like retracing a path long since unwalked.

"Get in here…" Sami demanded quietly against his mouth when they parted. "Just…I wanna be closer to you,"

Hunter nodded and started to remove his partially-wet clothes, shrugging them off into a messy pile on the bathroom floor. He stepped into the tub carefully, not wanting to disturb the water too much, and stretched himself out on the opposite end from Sami, their legs tangling underneath the water. Once he'd settled into a comfortable position, he held his arms out and beckoned Sami to come to him. The boy went to him on his knees, buoyed by the water, turning around so he could press his back against Hunter's broad chest, lifting his arms so Hunter's could loop under them and pull him close. Sami let out a happy, contented sigh as he settled, a sound that went a long way towards easing the knot in Hunter's chest, leaning down to drag his lips down the length of Sami's pale neck.

"I meant what I said back in the locker room," Hunter said softly. "I don't know how the fuck the main roster's supposed to top what you guys did back there…especially what you and Shin did,"

Sami rested his hands on Hunter's arms where they were clasped around his stomach, drawing lazy circles under the water. "That's not what's really bothering you though, is it? At least, that's not all of it…"

"Let's not make this about me, Red…" Hunter said. "Tonight should be about you, I wanna reward my boy for doing so good."

Sami lifted one of Hunter's hands to his mouth, kissing his knuckles reverently. Hunter felt a swell of something inside him, pride and affection laced with guilt, holding someone who never gave him less than everything he had, put up with all his lengthy absences, his months of neglect—which Sami would never even call that—and was still willing to trust him in this manner. It overwhelmed him at times—Sami's bright-eyed enthusiasm, undimmed by politics and bad bookings, the hardened core of will and belief that was hidden under soft flesh, red hair and an easy smile. He wondered how long that would last, how much fire would remain in Sami if things went bad somewhere down the line—he'd already seen uneasy glimpses of it back when Sami got injured.

Hunter bent his head and kissed the fading scar on Sami's shoulder, trying not to think back to the dark days just after Sami's surgery, when the pain was fresh and the future uncertain, when he'd snuck past hospital visiting hours multiple times just to let Sami cry himself to sleep on Hunter's shoulder, unable to offer other means of comfort.

"It's all healed up now…" Sami assured him, reading his thoughts as always. "Doesn't even twinge anymore."

"I know…" Hunter said as he brought Sami's chin up, twisting his head around for another kiss.

There was a bit more desperation this time, more Hunter's than Sami's, seeking something he had no name for from his little sun, his one unwavering source of warmth, turning Sami around in his embrace so they were face-to-face, Sami's palms pressed against his chest. Hunter's fingers circled Sami's wrists, the skin still indented from where it was taped over, feeling quickening pulse thrum in his grasp.

"Bed?" he asked, and Sami nodded silently.

Hunter wouldn't have minded carrying Sami all the way to the bed but the younger man was having none of it, rising up on his own volition and wrapping himself up in a large white towel, half-hard dick dripping excess water on the floor as he led Hunter to the bedroom.

The balance was off, Sami looking exceptionally clear-headed and calm while Hunter's own thoughts were a murky mess, but Hunter found that he didn't really care. Not tonight, with Sami's eyes regarding him with something that bordered dangerously close to __unconditional__ , something Hunter certainly didn't deserve and shouldn't feel buoyed by. He laid Sami down on the bed and proceeded to dry him off, kissing every inch of flesh with as much apology as affection, paying close attention to thin red welts and bruises that would soon turn blue. Sami had always bruised easily, Hunter had discovered that way back in NXT, sickly yellow-purple marks blotching under his soft red fuzz.

After a while he tossed the towel aside and laid himself on top of Sami, braced on his elbows, trading long kisses as Sami's hands wandered up and down his back. Their hard cocks brushed against each other but Hunter was in no rush, thumb sinking into the soft pale skin of Sami's cheek. It was a gesture he'd often repeated, one he was comfortable doing even when the cameras were on—or maybe, in some sick way it was the gesture of affection he'd wanted the world to see, that Sami was his boy, his precious Red. Whenever Hunter did that Sami's eyes went puffy and soft, like he was savoring touches that were all-too brief and fleeting, wanting more but always having to hold back.

If he had his way Hunter would give his boys everything, each of them, everything he had and more. He'd give Seth a healthy knee and a long run as champion. He'd give Roman the match of his life and a stadium full of cheers. He'd give Sami all the respect he craved and a shiny belt he didn't need to cling to from a stretcher.

But he __couldn't.__

He couldn't and it was gnawing at him, tight and heavy in his chest, bubbling up to the surface even as he maneuvered Sami onto his side and tucked himself against the younger man's back, wanting to feel as much contact as possible. Sami reached back and curled his fingers at the back of Hunter's neck, chasing for another kiss, helpfully lifting one leg and draping it back over Hunter's waist, relax and ready and open.

 _ _I don't deserve this__ , Hunter thought to himself even as his fingers wandered, fondling pliant flesh, sinking into soft curls of hair, reaching down, down, down.

It was Sami's gasp as he sank his first finger in that brought him back to somewhere resembling reality, what he was holding in his two hands—living flesh that had been put through hell, and a mind so rich with thought and possibilities it often shamed Hunter's own. Sami with his insistence on finding the right music for any occasion, Sami who wondered aloud about the fate of wayward migratory birds, Sami who cried about certain things he saw on the news when he thought nobody was looking, Sami who muttered aloud to himself in his mother tongue in private spaces where nobody could judge him for it, and hated the fact that he had to do so. Sami, who wrestled like fire and cut promos like sharpened steel.

"You're beautiful, Red…" was all Hunter could say to articulate the swell he felt in his chest and his throat. "So fucking beautiful,"

Sami squirmed, not unpleasantly, stroking the back of Hunter's neck. "You're always so good to me…"

 _ _Not good enough__ , Hunter almost verbalized, stopping himself in favor of lining his cock up with Sami's entrance. Sami's tight heat welcomed him, easy and slow, hips pressing back against Hunter.

For all that he was a virtual rubix cube of a person, an interlocking and ever-twisting pattern of thoughts and feelings and ideas he couldn't wait to express, making love to Sami had always been blessedly simple. No waters to tread around, no eggshells to walk on. The times he'd indulged Hunter in something darker, edgier or otherwise out of the norm had been done out of playful curiosity, and he'd always want to talk about it afterwards—what he liked and what he didn't, what part of the broad canvas of human sexuality he felt it represented.

On this night, all complexity melted away from him, taking some of it out of Hunter, too—he focused himself on his movements, rocking his hips into Sami and holding him tight, savoring every gasp, every soft little noise the drag of his cock against Sami's inner walls produced out of the younger man's throat, every instance of Sami's fingers tightening on his own, laced tight, in time with his thrusts. Hunter's other hand held Sami's leg up, cupped under his thigh, determined to take on as much of the effort as possible.

Sami came with both Hunter's hands and his own gripped tight around his cock, letting out a long, drawn-out moan that was music to Hunter's ears, reverberating all the way down his body. He followed not long after, stilling himself inside the boy's body as he sank his face into the soft bed of red hair on Sami's head, nuzzling gently against his scalp.

"Missed you…" he whispered as both of them came down from the high, a poor approximation of what he really felt. "Missed this. Should've been around more, should've been there for you…"

"You __were…__ " Sami muttered, fingers still tangled with Hunter's on his stomach, spreading the mess of his release. "You were always there. I never—God, Hunter, I couldn't have asked for more than this,"

Hunter kissed his shoulder again, tracing the scar with his lips. "Thank you," he said, hoping Sami would understand. Knowing Sami, he had a feeling that he would.

—

An hour later, Sami was half-dressed and stuffing himself with selections from the hotel's extensive room service menu, including a kebab he'd proclaimed to be 'half-decent' and a quiche he'd nearly keeled over in praise for, insisting that Hunter have a bite.

"Don't give me bullshit about 'watching your figure', you're about as cut as anyone your age has any right to be," he said.

Hunter took the mouthful off Sami's hand, and smiled as he saw the contented expression on the younger man's face.

While Sami busied himself with his food, Hunter went to the suite's living room area and fetched a black, rectangular box from his work briefcase, feeling its weight in his hands as he carried it back to the bedroom.

"What's that?" Sami asked.

"Finish eating first, then I'll show you…" Hunter said.

As Sami ate, Hunter sat on the bed and turned the box over and over in his hand. Some part of him wondered if this was the worst idea he'd had in a long line of bad ones, but something inside him also felt that he __had__ to, that Sami would understand and appreciate his intent.

He hadn't even noticed that Sami had gotten up from the table and was now sitting next to him, looking expectantly at the box. "So…?"

Hunter took in a deep breath and laid the box on the mattress, undoing the two metal latches that held it shut. "I wanted to show you this—not even sure if it's the right thing to do, or just a dick move from someone who should know better, but…" he slowly opened the lid. "…I wanted you to see them first."

Sami's eyes went wide, mouth agape, the reflection of metal glinting in his eyes.

Inside the box, laid side by side, were two round sideplates emblazoned with Sami's logo, 'SZ', black and red lined with gold, polished to shining perfection. They were brand new, fresh off the workshop in Connecticut where Hunter had insisted that they be finished in time for Wrestlemania weekend.

"We get these made for everyone who gets called up to the main roster…" Hunter explained. "Just to have them ready in case the bookings change, or an injury happens, or Vince gets one of his bright ideas…"

Sami's fingers trembled as he traced his initials on his sideplates, the look on his face a mix of uncertainty and awe, and Hunter felt the ache in his chest return tenfold.

"Sami, look at me…" he asked quietly.

When Sami did, there were a million questions in his eyes.

"I'm not….I can't say when you'll actually get to see these installed in an actual belt…" Hunter said. "I wish I could. Please don't take this the wrong way, I'm not trying to give you false hope, or empty promises—I'd never do that."

Sami nodded. "I understand…"

"I just wanted you to see them, to know they're waiting for you—" Hunter's voice trailed off. "Anything more than that, I'd be a lying sack of shit and the asshole I promised myself I wouldn't be anymore."

"Hunter, please—" Sami silenced him with hands on his shoulders, pressing just enough to make their presence known. "They're beautiful. They're perfect. I'm glad you showed them to me, okay?"

Hunter sighed in relief, leaning forward to press his forehead against Sami's, shutting the lid of the box. "I'm glad you feel that way…"

"I know it's not your call what happens to me on the main roster," Sami continued. "I won't hold you to anything. You never gave me any bullshit back in Florida, and I know you're not gonna start now,"

"There's gonna be plenty of bullshit coming your way from other places," Hunter said honestly.

"I know," Sami nodded against him. "I just gotta keep doing what I do, put the work in, take the bumps and whatnot—and remember that I got into this business because I love it,"

Hunter put the box aside and stroked his thumb down Sami's face, opening eyes he hadn't even realized he'd held shut. Sami's face was back to its unquestioning look of acceptance, something Hunter rarely saw in anyone these days, couldn't remember ever seeing in himself.

"My precious Red…" he said affectionately. "I wanna see you burn bright, tear the house right down at Wrestlemania…"

Sami smiled, a spark igniting in his eyes. "How does a Tope Con Hilo through a ladder sound?"

"You're serious?"

"Oh yeah, I got it all figured out…" Sami grinned. "Gonna set that ladder right at the ropes and leap through the space in the middle, take out everyone else outside…"

Hunter could see it in his head, could almost hear the pop of a sellout stadium crowd, and had to smile himself. "You're gonna kill it."

"I'm gonna kill Kevin too," Sami shrugged. "It's his turn. We flipped a coin."

"Probably gave the bookers a heart attack when you guys proposed it, huh?" Hunter asked with amusement.

"Nah, they gave us the brief rundown and told us to go crazy filling it with spots," Sami said. "It's gonna be great,"

"I'm sure it will," Hunter said. "Gonna be a tough act to follow,"

Sami's expression changed, eyes taking on a searching look that always left Hunter feeling pierced through. "Are things…bad between you and Roman?" he asked tentatively. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it, I just—"

"No, it's fine…" Hunter assured him. "Well, actually it's pretty damn messed up, but I'm…I'm okay talking about it."

"How bad?"

Hunter exhaled deeply, staring down at patterns in the carpet he'd only noticed were there. "It's not Roman's fault. He used to come to me so he could forget, put everything away, not have to think about the bullshit and the crowds and the stupid booking. Now that __I'm__ the one beating him up week in and week out, gloating about how he's not good enough to be a Champion and all that, it's not so clear-cut anymore."

Not that anything ever __was__ , but.

"It's tough to feud with someone you actually care about…" Sami said wistfully. "Gets in your head, jumbles everything up."

"Roman's not like you, Sami…" Hunter said, shaking his head. "Everything gets to him if he lets it. His skin's pretty thick but up here…" Hunter touched Sami's temple. "…his walls are thinner. He's built them up somewhat, but everytime I try to get close, I feel like I'm tearing them down…"

"So you've been…staying away?"

Hunter nodded. "We both decided it was for the best…at least until Wrestlemania."

"Must be killing you, though…"

Hunter looked up, meeting Sami's gaze. "Yeah, but you're not here because I needed a __distraction__ , Sami. That's not what you are."

"I know," Sami assured him. "I wouldn't have minded if it made you feel better, but I know."

"You __should__ mind," Hunter said sternly. "It's not fair."

Sami gave a sad little chuckle, tracing an index finger across the lid of the box that held his sideplates like a guarded treasure, a dream yet unrealized, sealed behind velvet lining and golden latches. "When is anything, ever?"

 _ _Ain't that the truth.__

 _—_

The night before Wrestlemania, Hunter stood bare-chested on the balcony of his hotel suite, the strange itch under his skin now even more pronounced, his joints tingling with the phantom ache of bumps he'd not even taken yet. He could make out the shape of the AT&T Stadium not too far away, knowing the production crew were still there, working flat-out to get everything ready, testing lights and music cues, installing multimedia screens and security gates.

His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, and he retrieved it to see a single line of text message:

 _ _can't sleep__

His chest tightened as he quickly typed in a reply:

 _ _me too__

It took less than a minute before another message came in:

 _ _can i see u__

Four words shouldn't affect Hunter so much, but they did, sent him stumbling back into the bedroom to look for a shirt and his jacket, thumbing a reply clumsily with one hand:

 _ _i'll come down. room number?__

He was out the door when the reply came in:

 _ _406__

—

When Roman opened the door, Hunter pushed his way inside and kicked the door shut behind him before either of them could say anything, pulling Roman close into a tight embrace. The younger man stiffened for five of the longest seconds of Hunter's life, then his resistance melted away and he threw his arms around Hunter's back, holding just as tight.

Hunter had no words, nothing worth saying, not even __sorry__ or __I wish I could make this easier for both of us__. They rang hollow and petty in his mind, meaningless despite the best of intentions, and he didn't want to tarnish the sheer relief flooding through him at having Roman in his arms again, the press of Roman's body against his, the smell of his hair, the racing beat of his heart against Hunter's chest.

"I…" Roman began, already choked with doubt.

"Let it out," Hunter said against his ear. "Tell me everything. Anything."

"I fucking hate this," Roman said, the words rushing through gritted teeth. "I don't want to do this anymore, I don't wanna beat you up over a stupid fucking belt, don't wanna go out there and hear how much they hate me for it, I'm sick of it…so fucking sick of it…"

"I know, baby boy…" Hunter soothed him. "I know."

"Motherfuckers think they're so fucking smart, think they know better…" Roman said bitterly, hands balling into fists on Hunter's chest. "Think I got this far on shits and giggles and a family name, they don't know—they don't __fucking know!__ "

Hunter held him close, tight coils of muscle straining against him, threatening to explode.

"They don't know how it makes me feel—everytime I have to hit you, everytime I have to knock you down, pretending like there's nobody in the world I hate more than you—" Roman looked up at him, eyes wild and lost. "I can't do this anymore, Hunter."

"Roman…"

"It's not too late to change the outcome, right? They did it last year when they made Seth cash in on me and Brock…we can still do it, right?"

"Roman, please…"

"You should keep the title," Roman continued rambling. "Maybe __then__ they wouldn't burn the whole place down with everyone of us in it, __fuck__ —the last thing they want to see is me winning that thing from you!"

"Roman!" Hunter shook him, hard enough to jostle a man Roman's size. "Fucking listen to yourself, you're losing it!"

Roman shook his head. "I'm fucking serious, Hunter—I can't…I can't take this,"

"You can, and you will." Hunter said sternly. "Fuck what those losers want, what they think should happen!"

"But—"

"Shut up and listen to me," Hunter silenced him, both hands gripping the sides of Roman's face, forcing him to meet his gaze. "By this time tonight, you will be the new World Heavyweight Champion. Okay? No changes, no last-minute swerve. We're going through with this,"

Roman bit his lips, holding back the protest Hunter knew was dancing at the edge of this tongue.

"Now, this is how it's gonna go, okay?" Hunter said, his voice trembling with the effort to keep calm. "You're gonna hit me with everything you got, and then you'll cover me, and the referee is going to count. One, two, three."

Roman closed his eyes, as if fighting off the inevitable.

"Say it," Hunter shook his face. "Say it to me,"

"One…" Roman choked out. "Two…three."

"Good," Hunter said. "Then you'll be handed that big black belt, and you'll hear your name being proclaimed Champion,"

"Hunter…"

"No, listen…" Hunter shushed him. "This is what you're going to do. You're going to climb up a turnbuckle, and you're gonna find the one motherfucker in the crowd who's been booing you the loudest, who's spent all night throwing insults at you, screaming himself hoarse trying to wear you down," he paused to lean close, pressing his forehead against Roman's. "And then…I want you to stare right into his fucking eyes as you hold that belt high above your head, letting him know that you're still there, that you're still standing strong, that you fucking __won.__ "

Roman exhaled sharply, a shudder passing through his body.

"Can you do that for me, baby boy? Can you be strong for me like that?"

"I…" Roman swallowed hard. "I can."

"Good," Hunter rewarded him with a kiss on the tip of his nose, the one that was still mending from being broken. "I want you to savor that moment, okay? That's your moment, __yours__ , not theirs. Don't let it be theirs."

"Mine," Roman repeated, more to himself than anything. "My moment,"

"That's right…" Hunter pulled him in close again, letting Roman's head rest against his shoulder. "My Champion…"

Roman sank into him, arms around Hunter's neck, knees wobbling with relief.

Hunter felt exhausted suddenly, letting gravity tug them both down onto the bed, sheets tousled from Roman's unsuccessful efforts to go to sleep. He didn't let go of Roman the whole time, petting softly at his hair and stroking gently up and down his back, arms unwilling to release the body he'd so desperately missed.

"Can you stay?" Roman asked, his voice unsteady.

"Sure…" Hunter said. "I'll let myself out early."

"Thank you…" Roman said, burrowing deeper into his shoulder.

Hunter drew the blankets over their bodies, the knot in his chest beginning to unravel, ever so slightly. It still wasn't enough, he was starting to think that nothing could ever be, his every gesture oscillating somewhere between too much and too little, a broken nose and a broken table here, a smashed TV screen there. As much as it was his job, he hated every hit he'd landed on Roman with the roar of the crowd behind him, their sick delight in seeing Roman beaten bloody through his hands.

It got to Roman, sure—but it got to __him__ , too. More than it should, more than a veteran of his years should allow it to.

Asking Roman to be strong for him had been a mere smokescreen for his true feelings—it was __him__ that needed to be strong for the boy, needed to be there for the punches and spears, needed to make sure Roman ended the night feeling on top of the world, fuck what everyone else felt.

And if they __did__ end up burning the whole place down with everyone in it, he'd stand by Roman for that, too.


	5. SummerSlam - 2014

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** And...back into the filth we merrily go!

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Roman stood in front of the full-length mirror in the suite's spacious bathroom, taking stock of his own body in the harsh downlighting.

His chosen line of work had always meant a lifetime of bumps and bruises, a network of shallow cuts that ran just under his skin, stitches that eventually fade into imperceptible ridges of raised flesh.

Last night's match with Randy had been a seventeen-minute marathon, trading blows and false finishes until Roman's vision went fuzzy around the edges and neither of them could stand up straight. Randy had been on one of his cleaner, more clinical nights, every move crisp and crowd-popping, including the scoop slam that genuinely knocked the air out of Roman's lungs, leaving him dazed for a solid few seconds before he could gather enough brain cells to remember the next spot. Randy didn't generally bludgeon his opponents into bloody messes, at least not when he's on a singles run, so Roman had come out of it relatively unscathed.

Right now, though, his body was playing host to marks of an entirely different kind.

Slowly, Roman lifted one hand to his own chest, trailing a finger across the reddish splotch on his collarbone, the faint indentations of teeth that still stung if he pressed against it. And press against it he did, the sensation awakening memories like the world's least-PG highlight reel, still potent enough that it sent a shudder straight down his body.

The trail of bruises would continue downwards, circling each of his pectorals, bruising one nipple slightly more than the other for some unknown reason, and Roman traced each of them with his fingers, his pulse quickening, his other hand braced on the sink counter for support. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend the hand running down his body was someone else's—older, rougher, driven by single-minded purpose to own and manipulate.

Roman bit down on his lip, stifling a moan that threatened to escape his throat.

Last night had been another significant moment for him, winning against one of the roster's best in a hard-fought match that went the distance. He'd walked backstage feeling pretty good about himself, adrenaline pumping, aches and pains momentarily forgotten as he received congratulatory handshakes and pats on his back for a job well done. Randy had gruffly clasped him around the shoulder—he was somewhat pissed that the bookers made Roman kick out of an RKO while he had to stay down after the spear—and left with one hand yanking Seth's arm towards the locker rooms to do God knows what.

Which left Roman on a long, slow walk down the corridor, toweling himself down as the crowd noises continued to reverberate down the concrete walls.

Then came the arms that grabbed him violently and pulled him into a supply closet, slamming him painfully against the wall as hands started to undo the catches of his vest, all before Roman could even come to grips with what was happening. Once he'd realized who the perpetrator was, steely eyes and rough voice, the combative side of Roman's mind switched off, almost treacherously, and he'd gone under as if he'd been drugged.

There were words spoken, terse and lustful, about how Roman had worked that match like the slut he was, letting Randy's hands get all over him, put him into all those sleeper holds, how Randy had looked down at him like a piece of fuckable meat and how Roman had all but presented himself to him, crawling like a whore with his ass in the air.

Roman hadn't remembered the match that way, but that wasn't really the point. Once the seed had been planted in his head he went with it, playing along, begging and pleading for mercy as he was pushed facedown onto unforgiving flooring, ring gear yanked unceremoniously down his hips.

There was pain, brief and searing but not unwelcome, his mouth forming a litany of "no" and "please" that his heart didn't mean. If he'd wanted it to stop, he'd have said something else. His hair yanked back, his mouth covered by a large, sweaty palm, an arm tight around his torso as grunting breaths filled the small space, deep jabbing thrusts that took him to the edge of what he could tolerate and left him wanting more, more, always more. Roman had cried and begged and pleaded, wetting the hand over his mouth with spit and tears, even as his body had pushed back and arched up like a wanton whore, his mind taken apart and reduced to its most base components.

He'd been finished off with a rough hand, before the length inside him was unceremoniously yanked out, leaving him feeling empty and unfulfilled. Then he'd been turned over to lie on his back as the first hot spurt hit his face, then painted on his exposed chest where his vest lay open, his tongue darting out to taste even before the whole ordeal was over. He'd muttered a breathless gratitude, unprompted, so high on everything, and had been rewarded with a smile and a kiss, a plain white keycard tossed into the drying mess on his chest.

Roman smiled at his own reflection, a smile unlike the one he gave to interviewers and fans. It came from somewhere deep, a part of him that he'd always known existed but hadn't let out to play too often, at least not until it had been drawn out of him by hands that knew exactly how to touch, a voice that knew exactly what words to say.

Roman moved his hand lower, tracing the jut of his hips, matching his own fingers to the shape of the bruises there, eliciting another full-body shudder.

It wasn't the pain, or the memory of it, that made him go weak in the knees. No, it was the intent behind the bruising grips, the promise of damage lying coiled in muscles under neatly-pressed suits, clear brown eyes and a voice that rubbed like sandpaper against the back of Roman's neck. It was the smell of him, the presence of him, the deep grunting breaths that blew against Roman's face like an untamed beast, the weight of him pressing down on Roman so completely he could almost imagine never being able to get back up.

It should have bothered him more, how easily he'd surrendered control and never tried to reclaim it since. How much effort he put into meeting every demand, fulfilling every request, even ones that were new and alien to his body, his mind channeled into a single narrow focus that wanted, more than anything, to please. It shouldn't feel this good or, more alarmingly, this _right._

But it did.

Last night's encounter at the arena had been followed up at the hotel, much the same but at a slower pace, slow enough to take in the words that poured into his ears like honey, thick and sweet and whispered close. Roman had hung onto every syllable, though he couldn't remember most of them now, only that they'd made him squirm and whimper like a man his size had no right to be doing, how it had all felt so wrong, so fucking good.

Roman stopped his hand just short of his half-hard dick, skirting around it to inch down his thighs. There were marks down there too, teeth and fingers and the crawling scratch of beardburn, more than his eyes could see from where he stood. Maybe, maybe if there was a mirror close to the bed, he could lie himself down in front of it and really _see_ …

Gasping, he shook himself loose from the fantasy and tried to ground himself, opening his eyes. His own reflection stared back at him, naked and wanting. His hands had now fallen limp at his sides, a strange heat starting to prickle underneath his skin. He still needed it, the itch wasn't quite through being scratched yet, the fog in his mind not yet cleared.

Quietly, he swtiched off the bathroom lights and stepped back into the bedroom, staring at the messy sheets, stark-white in the morning sun that came in from the window. There was a faint hum of conversation from the other side of the door, someone talking on the phone, words like 'scheduling' and 'assessment' and 'production meeting', real-world things, business things, things far removed from Roman's own little world right now, naked and shivering in the cool breeze of the bedroom's air-conditioning.

His own clothes were a dark heap of fabric on the floor in one corner of the room, unappealing. But right by the foot of the bed was a discarded dress shirt, still pristine and white even if a little rumpled, and he'd bent to pick it up before he could stop himself.

It wrapped awkwardly around his shoulders, too tight in some places and too loose in others. It was a shirt tailor-made to perfection for another body, and Roman felt like a bit of an intruder wearing it, though he couldn't deny how good it felt against his skin. Letting it hang loose and unbuttoned, he crawled back onto the bed, body still singing with that strange, unshakable sense of need. Lifting one arm and sniffing at the fabric, inhaling a trace scent of cologne and a hint of sweat, the heady mix of familiarity and comfort laced with something darker, more dangerous. The fog in Roman's brain thickened, body falling forward onto the bed, into sheets still damp in spots from last night's exertions, filthy and dirty and _welcoming_ , a place where everything was distilled down to simplicity.

Beyond the door was a world that dealt in packaging and presentation, projecting images and sound onto giant screens and a square mat lined with wire ropes. A world that dealt in backstage politics and lobbying, in internet polls and merchandise sales. A world that built up heroes and villains with fireworks and smoke machines, and tore them down with ladders and steel chairs.

In here, none of that mattered. All he had to do was breathe in the scent of the man who wore this shirt last night, curl up in its sweet, comforting haze, and wait. And wait.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes—the sun was still just barely peeking over the buildings outside the window when the muffled sounds of conversation stopped and the door to the bedroom finally opened.

Roman lifted his head from the sheets, just enough to see the figure standing tall at the foot of the bed, broad chest rising with heavy breath as eyes locked with his, dark and piercing. A gaze that might have withered others, opponents and friends alike, a gaze that would've stripped him bare if he weren't already naked, the flimsy fabric of a shirt leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Missing me already?" came the deep voice, touched with a hint of amusement.

Roman nodded, legs opening out of their own volition, thighs quivering, beckoning and a little desperate.

"Damnit, baby boy…" the bed dipped a little on its springs, hands circling around his ankles and pulling them wider. "That slutty hole of yours still hungry for my cock?"

Roman closed his eyes as he heard himself make a strange, animal noise from his throat, a sound so alien it almost startled him. But there were hands on his body now, large and soothing yet rough at the same time, crawling up his torso, re-tracing the marks he'd studied so intently in front of the mirror. A pair of lips latched onto his inner thigh, sucking harshly with a mix of teeth and tongue—another bruise, another claim.

"You like wearing Daddy's clothes, huh?" the voice said from down below, hot breath ghosting against his groin. "You like feeling me all around you, like I'm wrapped tight and won't let go?"

"Y-yes…" Roman managed tho choke out, tongue fumbling over the simplest of words.

"Yes what, baby?" the voice crawled up now, beard rubbing against his stomach.

"Yes, Daddy…" he said, the word now rolling sweetly off his tongue, any hint of hesitation that might have been there months ago long since gone.

"Open your eyes…" the command came from directly above and Roman did, staring straight into a handsome face lined with deep furrows, brown eyes keen with intent and lips quirked into a half-smirk, his physical heat and weight now all too real and nearly overwhelming.

 _Hunter_.

A name that meant little two months ago—his boss, his in-ring opponent, not quite his boyhood hero but still a name that had gone the distance he'd only begun to travel.

 _Hunter._

Roman's voice might not be calling him that name but his body was, flesh tingling with need, aching to be touched, wanting to be taken to that place where everything else faded away and all he could see, feel, touch, and think about was _Hunter_.

Hands, then. Everywhere, grabbing him by the shoulders, pulling his arms up, half sliding the shirt off him and half keeping it on, until he was cradled across a strong lap with that hot, heavy mouth sucking at his neck, one arm wrapped tight around his shoulder while the other snuck between his legs, a calloused palm stroking lazily along his length.

"I could dress you up like a Ken doll," the voice muttered darkly against his ear. "Make you wear all the nicest things, clothes that make you look so pretty, so damn _delicious,_ clinging to this body of yours just right—"

Roman sank deeper and deeper on each word, swimming in the haze, his own hands flung weakly around a thick, muscled neck.

"You'd drive everybody crazy, walking around looking so damn good—but it's only me that gets to mess you up like this," words accentuated with a lick across his jaw. "…my own little fuckdoll, my pretty little bitch."

Roman gasped, his open mouth swallowed into a rough, bruising kiss. One of Hunter's hands palmed at his chest, rubbing the fabric of the shirt against his skin, thumb flicking almost lazily at a nipple. Hunter tasted like fresh roast coffee and a bit of toothpaste—he was an early riser, Roman had learned over the last two months. Liked to get a bit of business done first thing to allow him time for a good workout or, failing that, going another round with Roman.

Hunter tipped his chin up, tapping an index finger against Roman's cheek. "You wanna give Daddy something nice before he has to go back to work?"

Roman nodded, his tongue thick with remnants of kisses and his own lust, unable to form words.

"Hands and knees," Hunter said.

Roman wasted no time complying, Hunter's shirt riding up his body as he turned over to assume the position, ankles hanging off the bed. On instinct he lowered himself down to his elbows, where he could rest his head on the mattress and push his ass further up, arching for the pleasure of his one-man viewing party.

"Such a good slut…" Hunter cooed as he stroked down Roman's back, touch and words driving a ripple of pleasure that traveled down Roman's spine. Whichever part of him clung to common sense and decency was currently being drowned by the part of him that loved being good for someone else—for _Hunter_ , specifically. Especially in moments like this, with Hunter's firm hands parting his ass and a deep, guttural chuckle of amusement reverberating against his exposed skin.

The next thing he felt was a warm, thick tongue lapping at his hole and it was all Roman could do not to thrust his ass back or grind himself down on the mattress to relieve his own aching hardness. Hunter wouldn't like that. Hunter wanted to control how things went, when Roman would be allowed to come and how many times. Right now he was wetting Roman's hole with his spit, fingers molded into the bruises on Roman's hips from last night, holding him in place as he licked. Roman's breathing through his mouth, breath dampening the sheets under him even further, eyes shut against the brightening sun and focused on the sensations racking his body.

"Should see what a mess I made of you back here, baby boy…" Hunter said as he nipped at one ass cheek. "You're all wet and swollen, still loose from all I did to you last night,"

Roman whimpered, squirming a little for more contact, which seemed to amuse Hunter.

"Don't worry, I'll fill you up nice…" he said, pulling Roman's hips back to get a better angle. Roman allowed himself to be manhandled into position, Hunter's shirt still wrapped around him, filling him with overwhelming sense of closeness, of _Hunter_ , all around him.

Hunter rarely went slow with him these days and that's fine, that's absolutely fine, Roman loved the burn and the friction and the sense that this wasn't his show to run, that someone else had made the choices for him. All he had to do was be a good boy and take it, open up his body to the rough intrusion of Hunter's hot, hard length and let him slide in, let him use Roman any way he saw fit.

"You like that?" Hunter asked once he was balls deep, rocking slightly to let Roman feel it.

"Yes, Daddy…" Roman said raspily, hands fisted in the sheets.

Hunter started moving, pulling almost all the way out with excruciating slowness before thrusting back in aggressively, each time knocing Roman forward and causing a burning ache that spread all the way to his fingertips. It hurt, and it also flooded him with pleasure so intense he almost whited out. His dick was hanging hard between his legs, dripping copiously, and sweat was plastering the fabric of Hunter's shirt against his skin.

"I wanna hear more…" said. "Tell me why you love this so much, tell me how this makes you feel…"

Roman's eyes flew open, mouth struggling to find words. "I…I don't—"

"Oh, don't worry…" Hunter draped himself over Roman's back to whisper in his ear. "Daddy won't tell anybody else. Just between you and me, baby boy…"

He nipped at Roman's ear to emphasize his words and Roman felt something inside him shatter—one last barrier of dignity, perhaps, or one last anchor to sanity.

"I…I feel full," he began awkwardly. "You…you're so big, and you fill me all the way up."

"Keep going," Hunter said, his voice steady even as his thrusts picked up.

Roman fought to keep his head in the right state—he'd never been good at this, could never get the hang of dirty talk, never been one to spout filth like Dean or tease and flirt like Seth, but he couldn't fail, couldn't let Hunter down, couldn't— _oh._

 _Oh._

"I like pleasing you," he let out shakily. "I like it when you telll me I'm good for you, that I'm doing things right…"

"Mmm-hmm," Hunter murmured appreciatively.

"I like it when—oh, God _…"_ Roman bit his lip over a hard thrust. "When you're all over me, like this, like last night, when there's nothing else for me to do but be good for you…"

The words left him in a rush, everything coming back to him like a flood, every sense memory feeding the confession of filth running from his mouth like a broken dam.

"I love doing this for you, Daddy…I love, love it when you just take me, when you make me _yours_ …"

" _Fuck,_ Roman…" Hunter sped up his movements, clearly affected.

"I love being yours, like this— _oh fuck!_ " Roman gasped, realizing that his own cock was sputtering, untouched, the sensation letting loose a final litany of words. "Wanna be yours all the time, don't want anybody else, just you, just you, Daddy—"

Hunter came with a loud, long grunt that sent nearly his full weight pressing down on Roman's back, hands locked tight around Roman's wrists. Roman felt him, heard him, could smell him and almost taste him, blood pounding in his ears as Hunter's climax rippled through him, intermittent aftershocks that rocked his hips forward, burying his softening dick even further into Roman's body.

"Damn, baby…that was…" Hunter muttered breathily against his ear. "That was something else."

Roman buried his nose into the sheets, senses slowly returning to him, an unwelcome coolness starting to form under his skin. Had he said too much? Had he gone too far? The misty haze in his mind was beginning to clear, just in time for self-doubt to start prickling at the edges of his thoughts. When he could breathe through his nose against he realized he'd gone all sniffy, and that the heat gathering in his eyes were unshed tears.

 _Right_. _Go to pieces like a crybaby after the best fuck of your life. What a mess you are._

"Hey…" Hunter seemed to sense his discomfort, turning him over.

Roman kind of wanted to hide but there was nowhere for him to go and Hunter was having none of it, the same strength that had held him down and fucked him now redirected, holding him close and stroking his hair as they lay on the bed, Hunter using his own body to shield Roman from the increasing brightness of the sun outside, the now discernable noises of traffic, the looming sense of the real world that was starting to dismantle the walls of their shared little one.

"Don't worry, baby…" Hunter said as he laid a kiss on Roman's forehead. "I don't want anybody else to have you, either…"

Roman sobbed, a strange relief overcoming him, burying his nose deep into the crook of Hunter' shoulders. The reciprocation, the knowledge that his words hadn't been dismissed as hopelessly stupid, or the ramblings of someone crazed with lust, comforted him immensely.

"Nope, not gonna happen…" Hunter repeated. "Keepin' you for myself."

Roman mouthed _yours yours yours_ in an endless loop against Hunter's shoulder until he fell asleep.

—

Two hours later, Roman was freshly showered and back in his own clothes, wheeling his small trolley bag into the foyer of the suite. Hunter was also packing up, though it was standard practice that they wouldn't be seen checking out together.

"The rest of your stuff should already be in Vegas…" Hunter said as he walked Roman towards the door. "There's a car waiting for you downstairs in the lobby. You can either go straight to the arena, or check in at the hotel first."

"Thanks," Roman nodded.

Being in bed with the boss certainly had its perks—their nights together often meant that Roman got separated from the rest of the traveling circus, especially on days like this right after a Pay-Per-View with RAW being just hours away. Thankfully, Hunter had his entourage of assistants, drivers, secretaries or whatever—people Roman rarely saw but whose handiwork would take so much of the hassle out of his hands. Whether it was checking him out of the current hotel and into the next one, taking care of his rentals, or making sure the rest of his luggage had been collected from his hotel room and transported to the next city, it left Roman with little to be concerned about except making it to the next show.

"What's on your plate tonight?" Hunter asked as Roman wheeled his suitcase out the door.

"Just some bullshit six-man tag match," Roman shrugged. "Kind of a throwaway,"

"I'll catch you after the show, then…" Hunter said, every bit his normal everyday self, the EVP, the suit-wearing executive with a million different appointments and a cellphone that buzzed every few seconds.

"Sure…" Roman said. "I'll…see you there, I guess…"

"Call me when you reach Vegas," Hunter said as he retreated back into the suite, letting the door swing shut.

It wasn't quite the walk of shame but it felt a little like it, Roman in yesterday's clothes wheeling his suitcase towards the elevators, every joint in his body protesting last night's and this morning's exertions. It was a good thing he wouldn't be driving his ass to Vegas because he certainly needed to catch some actual sleep before tonight.

The car was waiting in the lobby as Hunter had promised, a nondescript black rental sedan with a bland-faced driver in a WWE polo and sunglasses, nodding politely at Roman and helping him stow his suitcase in the trunk.

Once the car was rolling, Roman helped himself to the bottles of water and organic energy bars that had been provided in a small caddy, and reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, which he hadn't even looked at since last night.

The newest message was from Seth, time-stamped only a few hours ago:

 _Randy fucking wrecked me last night, man… and it's all your fault._

Roman smiled and typed back:

 _Don't lie, you fucking love it._

He leaned back against the seat as the car sped towards the Interstate, the warmth of the sun seeping in through the tinted windows, painting everything golden.

Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this.


	6. Wrestlemania 31 - 2015

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** Sorry this took a good long while you guys. Wrestlemania kinda wrecked me, not to mention the subsequent RAWs, then Star Wars Celebration took over, as did real-life, work, moving house and the like. But here I am, back with another installment of this twisty, messed-up saga. Originally, this chapter was meant to cover the entirety of 2015 but then I realized my poor brain can't cope with that much fuckery, so I kept it confined to Wrestlemania 31 instead..

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.

Seth was beaming — as well he should be, title belt gleaming from the shoulder of the exquisitely-tailored, bespoke three-piece suit that Hunter had ordered for him towards the end of last year. He was sipping at his champagne gingerly — stil a lightweight as far as alcohol was concerned, and on his best behavior as he welcomed congratulatory handshakes and backpats from Hall of Famers, shareholders, and corporate sponsor representatives.

Stephanie looked every bit the proud mama as she watched Seth work the room at the after party, turning towards Hunter to whisper, "Guess he turned out okay after all, didn't he babe?"

Hunter smiled, squeezing his arm around the waist of her dress. "We taught him well,"

"No, _you_ did…" she corrected him, giving him a little peck on the cheek. "I consider myself an involved spectator."

Hunter chuckled, recalling the few times he'd shared Seth with Stephanie. It had all stemmed from way back when Hunter had first gotten Seth into his bed, and shared a few pictures of his latest conquest with his wife. They'd reached an agreement a long time ago that Hunter's dalliances with male talent were perfectly acceptable, so long as she could also indulge in her own activities on the side. Hunter being Hunter, he'd never asked questions about what she got up to when he wasn't around, but Steph was always curious about Hunter's 'boys', and she'd taken a particular liking to Seth amongst all of them.

Sometimes, Hunter wondered what he'd done in life to get so lucky. So far as he could recall, he'd done plently of questionable shit throughout his career, and if NXT was any form of atonement then he'd surely messed that up too by fucking some of its brightest stars senseless. Still, getting to please both his boy _and_ his wife in the same night had to be considered a win-win situation for all. A loss for Seth's poor little ass, perhaps, but he never protested. Much.

"So do you have plans for him tonight, or is he still playing Randy's bitch?" Stephanie asked quietly against his ear.

"Probably the latter," Hunter said. "Randy won against him, but now he's got the title—I'm sure that's gonna be interesting to work out between them."

"Hmm…maybe I should ask if I can watch," she said over the rim of her champagne class.

"Wouldn't that be a show," Hunter smiled. "If you do—make sure to take a couple of videos for me."

"Will do, babe…" she threw him a sly little wink. "Oh, there's Dad with some of the sponsors…I better go and mingle."

"As you wish, Princess…" he bowed playfully as she walked away towards where Vince was involved in conversation with a few sharply-dressed corporate types, undoubtedly already starting to work out deals for next years' worth of PPV sponsorships and cross-promotions.

That was the part of the business that Hunter was still struggling to get to grips with — he'd rather focus internally, developing talent, building the Performance Center, making sure the future is secure in terms of their roster and the level of performers they could put in the ring. But he knew a spectacle like the Wrestlemania they'd just put on was impossible without their sponsors, especially with the scale of Vince's ambitions escalating year to year.

His phone buzzed in his pocket then, and Hunter set down his empty champagne glass to retrieve it from his pocket. When he saw the Caller ID, he stopped dead in his movements—Hunter kept most of his roster on his contact list, but here was a name he never thought he'd see pop up on his screen:

 _Dean Ambrose._

Hunter quickly made for the nearest exit from the ballroom, finding a side hallway used by the caterers and the service staff.

"Hello?"

For a few seconds, there was no response from the other side.

"Hello? Ambrose, you there?"

Dean's voice came at last, low and hesitant. "He's…he's not talking."

Hunter frowned, backing himself into a quiet corner of the hallway. "Dean, you're not making any sense. Who's not talking?"

"Roman, you asshole! I got him back to the hotel, and now he's just lying there, not talking to me, not even responding to me, I don't know what the fuck to do anymore!"

 _Oh shit._

"Dean…back the fuck up," Hunter fought to keep his voice calm. "Tell me, what the hell happened with Roman?"

"You saw what the fuck happened, you jackass! You and the brass made Brock wreck him, then Seth ran in and cashed in on him, and they left him a mess in the middle of that ring with the whole fucking stadium screaming for his dead body!" Dean's voice cracked loudly over the line. "Were you fucking blind? Didn't you see all that?"

"Of course I saw!" Hunter said defensively. "I was in gorilla the whole time, Dean. He came back through the curtains…he told me he was okay,"

"Well, he fucking _isn't_!"

Hunter breathed deeply, rubbing his face. "Okay, okay…where is he? Where are you?"

"He's in our hotel room," Dean said. "Was quiet the whole ride back, I thought…I thought he just didn't wanna talk about shit…but then…"

Hunter felt his stomach tightening into a cold, heavy knot. "Did he throw up?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. "How….how did you know?"

"He said it happens whenever shit gets intense for him," Hunter explained. "Did he?"

"Yeah, like he…fucking puked his whole guts out, man, was dry heaving by the end of it," Dean sounded almost desperate. "And then he just…got on the bed, curled up and hasn't said anything since, like…like he's fucking out of it or something. Like he's not even _there_."

Hunter felt a stab of ice in his gut, cursing himself silently for not checking up on Roman sooner. "Are you in the room with him?"

"God, no—don't want him to hear me say all this shit," Dean said. "I'm on the balcony, got the door shut tight— _fuck_."

"Dean?"

"He's just lying there, Trips…" Dean's voice trembled. "Staring up at the ceiling like…like he's fucking _dead_."

Hunter's mind was made up in an instant, already walking towards the nearest door that would lead him to the parking lot. "Okay, just hang tight…I'm coming there."

"Can you…fix him?"

Hunter stopped dead in his tracks, a cold and uneasy weight settling on his shoulders. "I don't know, Dean…I don't. I'm gonna try."

"I just…" Dean's voice hitched, an exasperated noise coming out of him. "Fuck, I don't know what else to do—I've got these staples in my head, I need a fucking aspirin and a good night's sleep but I can't…I can't…"

"Dean," Hunter put as much calm in his voice as possible, hoping the cell signal would hold up as he entered the basement parking lot. "I know it wasn't easy…making the decision to call me, I mean."

"The fuck else was I supposed to call?" Dean said, and Hunter could hear the flick of a lighter. "Look, man…I don't pretend to understand what it is that you got going with him, or Seth, or anyone else for that matter, but…I know you've been good to him, okay? Otherwise why the heck would he keep coming back to you?"

 _Why, indeed._

"You know, I ask myself that question a lot, Dean—" Hunter said as he got into his rental, key already turning in the ignition. "I can't promise you anything, okay? I'll…do my best."

"Should I…should I just like, leave the room and then you can…get in?"

"No!" Hunter shifted his phone to one hand as he buckled himself in. "Look…he…we gotta be careful around him when he's like this, okay? If he sees you leave, he's gonna think that you gave up on him,"

"Well, fuck _that_." Dean all but growled over the line. "Ain't gonna happen."

"I know," Hunter said. "I can't fix _that_ , Dean. You're still his best friend. Nothing I do is gonna make it better if he sees you walk out on him,"

Dean sighed loudly. "So how do we do this?"

"If you can get him to stand up and walk, meet me at the hotel's side entrance. I'll let you know when I'm close."

"Okay…" Dean said. "I'll try."

Hunter turned the key in his ignition. "I'm starting the car right now. Meet you there."

The call ended and Hunter resisted the temptation to throw his phone across his dashboard, tires screeching as he pulled out of the parking lot as fast as he could without hitting something.

He should have known. He should have known Roman was lying through his teeth when he came through the curtains with his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, assuring everyone that he was okay. Should've seen through the bitter laughter he'd forced out of himself as he received handshakes for a well-fought match, never mind the fact that he'd only been told that very morning that Seth would cash in on him and win the title. Hunter should have seen it the moment Seth raised that belt in victory, fireworks exploding behind him as Roman stared from the ring, broken and wrecked from a barrage of suplexes and drowning in the crowd's adulation of his on-screen nemesis.

"Damnit!" he cursed himself out loudly as he drove, then waited until the first red light before grabbing for his phone again.

In the fifteen minutes it took him to get to the hotel where the roster was staying, he'd sent out a couple of quick messages to Stephanie and Seth, then called up a few people in his personal staff to make some arrangements. They were a good, hardworking bunch who didn't ask questions and didn't blab, all but sworn to secrecy, and his PA didn't even miss a beat when Hunter told her that he needed to get checked out of the current hotel and checked straight into another one closer to the RAW arena for the following night.

He sent a quick text to Dean as he neared the hotel, hoping there weren't any fans or press milling about the side entrance. Thankfully it was all but deserted, and as he pulled up he could see two figures standing just off the steps, keeping themselves as much in the dark as possible.

He flashed his lights twice in quick succession and stopped his car just short of the entrance door, away from the glare of the terrace lights, knowing they had to be quick.

Roman had a dark hoodie pulled over his head and Dean was guiding him by the shoulder, carrying Roman's sports bag over one shoulder. Hunter unlocked the doors and leaned over as Dean opened the door on the passenger side, coaxing Roman in. Hunter couldn't get a clear look at his face but he wasn't sure he even wanted to, not until they were in the safe confines of privacy. Roman had his eyes downcast the entire time, buckling himself in as Dean threw the bag into the backseat and slammed the door shut.

Hunter made a silent gesture of 'I'll call you later' with his hands, to which Dean only nodded. The look on his face was a mix of relief and misgivings, which was understandable. Dean had taken a nasty bump during the ladder match which led to the staples in his head, and seeing Roman in this state couldn't have been easy for him. Still, he probably still had doubts on whether or not he'd made the right decision calling Hunter in to try to remedy the situation—doubts that Hunter himself felt, but tried his hardest not to show.

As they drove away, Hunter wondered whether he should try to talk to Roman or touch him, but the man seated next to him seemed so closed off, so disconnected from his surroundings that he didn't want to risk it.

"I'm just gonna get us to the next hotel, closer to the venue for tomorrow, okay?" he said quietly as they stopped at the first intersection.

Roman nodded silently, which gave Hunter some indication that he was at least lucid, and he focused on getting them to their destination as quickly as traffic would allow.

His PA called to let him know that he'd been checked into the suite at the Westin San Jose and that his luggage would be waiting there for him. Thanking her, he also told her to get someone to collect the rest of Roman's things from the hotel they'd just left, and to make sure Dean Ambrose gets a company car to transfer him to the Westin.

"Right away, sir." she replied. "Someone will meet you at the basement parking lot with a keycard and show you to the private elevators that'll take you straight up to the suite rooms."

 _Thank God for efficient staff,_ Hunter thought to himself as he turned on his GPS and plotted the quickest route to the Westin.

As promised, there was a WWE staffer waiting for him at the basement parking lot. Hunter took Roman's bag out of the backseat and shouldered it, handing his rental keys to the man in exchange for his keycard. Roman stepped out of the car slowly, his movements slightly stiff, making Hunter wonder if he'd bothered to see the trainers after the match to get himself checked—he suspected not.

Their elevator ride up to the suite floors was silent, reminiscent of many he'd taken with Roman over the course of the last half-year or so, though never with Roman in this bad of a near-catatonic state. It was undeniable that their 'relationship' so far had been a medley of hotel suites and private arena dressing rooms, which gave the whole thing an air of triviality Hunter was beginning to despise. He wouldn't be surprised if Roman still thought of their little arrangement as one of mere convenience and physical desire—Hunter hadn't given him much reason to believe otherwise, but the realization that he'd failed Roman so utterly tonight twisted his insides in a way he never thought possible before.

Entering the suite a step behind Roman, Hunter deposited the sports bag on the floor and reached behind him to bolt the doors locked.

The sound seemed to trigger something in Roman, the sign of the outside world finally being shut away, and he ran straight for the bathroom without a single word. It didn't take long for sounds of painful dry heaving to emanate from there, which made Hunter feel like a thousand different shades of shit, but he held back from going straight after Roman, determined not to overcrowd him.

Dean had thoughtfully packed a change of clothes of Roman, which Hunter laid out on top of the covers in the bedroom. Retrieving Roman's toiletry case from the sports bag, he carefully made his way to the bathroom and slowly opened the door.

Roman was kneeling over the toilet bowl, hoodie thrown back to reveal his hair held up in his usual half-bun, plastered with sweat that Hunter knew had little to do with physical exertion. It was a cold, sickly kind of sweat, confirmed when Hunter knelt next to him and gently laid his hand on the back of Roman's neck.

"Hey…" he started, not really knowing what to say.

Roman didn't look at him, spitting weakly into the toilet and breathing with much difficulty.

"Did you shower before going back to the hotel?"

Roman shook his head.

"OK, then let's get you out of these clothes and into the shower once you're done, okay? You're sweating right through these, that can't be healthy…"

Roman nodded, but then a new wave of nausea seemed to overtake him and he heaved again, banging his hands on the tiles as his body continued to revolt against him. Hunter could do little but stroke his back, the cold sweat already starting to soak through Roman's clothes. He made a mental note to make sure he got some food into him somewhere between now and tomorrow, though he wasn't sure what Roman could keep down at this point.

Slowly, he helped Roman out of his clothes, turning the shower on to what he judged was a suitable degree of warmth as he did so. Despite a strong urge to follow Roman into the booth Hunter restrained himself, not wanting to crowd too much into the boy's personal space. Roman knew he was there, that had to be enough for now, whatever else would follow could wait.

While Roman was in the shower Hunter set his toiletry bag on the counter and pulled out a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash and his toothpaste and toothbrush set, laying them out next to a fresh set of towels. Then he returned to the bedroom to unpack some of his own luggage, which his staff had also checked into the room for him, changing out of his formal attire into something more comfortable.

Checking his phone, he saw a text message from Seth:

 _Is he okay? Please take care of him._

Hunter typed out a quick, affirmative reply and waited for Roman to finish showering, using the suite's kitchenette facilities to boil a kettle of water in the meantime and flipping through the provided selection of herbal teas before settling on simple black, something familiar and comforting rather than exotic or floral.

When he came back to the bedroom, Roman had dried off and put on the clothes that Dean had packed for him, loose-fitting sweatpants and an old t-shirt that was almost threadbare in places, well-worn and a little faded. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, towel loosely slung around his neck, staring out the window vacantly.

Hunter felt the twist in stomach deepen further, walking slowly until he was in front of Roman and lowering himself down to kneel in front of the boy, not quite touching him yet but trying to look into his eyes for the first time since they'd last seen each other in gorilla after the main event, trying to really _see_ this time and more importantly, making sure Roman saw as well.

"You okay?" he asked. It was a stupid question, all things considered, but he had to start somewhere.

Roman shook his head slowly, lower lip starting to tremble.

Hunter reached out and laid both hands on Roman's knees, ready to pull back if he sensed any rejection whatsoever. But Roman accepted his touch as readily as he always had, which made Hunter feel even worse, for some reason.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it…I understand," Hunter said quietly.

Roman drew in a deep, heavy breath. "He said thank you," he let out in a voice that was thin and raspy.

"Who?"

"Seth…" Roman said. "When he was pinning me…in the middle of all that noise…he said 'thank you so much' right next to my ear."

Hunter tightened his hands on Roman's knees, unsure of how to react.

"He was…he was probably trying to make me feel better about the whole thing, but…"

"Only made it worse, didn't it?" Hunter finished for him.

Roman nodded, the trembling in his lower lip becoming more pronounced.

Hunter rose from his knees and sat next to Roman, looping an arm around the boy's trembling shoulders. "Roman…it's okay. Let go."

Roman shook his head, eyes shut tight against something Hunter knew was pushing up into the surface, threatening to bubble over.

"Roman…" he said again, turning the boy's face towards him. "It's only me in here. There's nobody else. Nobody can see you, nobody can hurt you. You're safe with me."

The word 'safe' seemed to do the trick, and soon Hunter had his arms full of 260 pounds' worth of trembling muscle and bone, his fingers threading through Roman's wet hair as sobs convulsed through his body, hands balled into fists on Hunter's chest that seemed on the brink of pounding. Hunter wouldn't have minded if Roman had let loose on him, beating bruises into him in all his frustration—he had a sinking feeling that he probably deserved it.

It was excruciating and ugly, to hear the deep guttural noises of exasperation that came out of Roman as Hunter held on to him, wishing he could reach down and pull out whatever was causing him grief, wishing he had more to give than surface comfort, a warm bed and a few hours' worth of privacy that would only last until sunrise. Futility wasn't a feeling Hunter was used to—normally he could see obstacles and ways to get over or around them, difficult as they might be, but this…how was he even supposed to begin with this?

Back after the Royal Rumble earlier that year, when it became painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain that Roman no longer had the crowd's favor, the boy had turned to him for reassurance, asking with wild and almost-innocent eyes about what was happening and whether Hunter had seen it before. Back then, Hunter had brushed it off with an easy smile and a pat on Roman's back, telling him that it was a phase and that 'they'd soon get over it'.

How foolish he'd been, and how wrong.

Even if they'd managed to appease the crowd today by letting Seth win the title, where would they take Roman next? Hunter didn't know, and he was willing to bet all his share in the company that the creatives and bookers didn't know either.

"I'm sorry…" he heard a faint mutter from against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hunter…"

"The fuck are you apologizing for?" Hunter said, keeping his voice low. "You did exactly what was asked of you. You fought a good match, you sold it like a pro, and you made Seth look a million bucks. You got nothing to be sorry for,"

"I'm sorry for _this_ ," Roman said. "I'm such a wreck—I should've been stronger, shouldn't have given Dean a scare like that, made you come all the way from the afterparty just to pick up my pathetic ass, I—"

"Stop," Hunter squeezed his shoulder tightly. "You stop that right now. I don't wanna hear any more of it."

"But…"

Hunter pulled back and forced Roman to look him in the eyes, wiping a few stray tears from his face. "You _were_ strong. You held up so well even with all the bullshit the crowd was throwing at you, and you kept it up for as long as the cameras were rolling…but you don't have to be anymore."

Roman's face twisted in his grasp, relief and denial warring across his features. "I…but you…"

"You think I'd rather be rubbing shoulders with sponsors and listening to Hall of Famers getting drunk and telling stories, rather than be here with you?" Hunter stroked down his neck, feeling the prickly heat that signaled the beginnings of a fever underneath the sheen of cold sweat. "If something's wrong with my baby boy, I need take care of him."

Roman drew a sharp breath at that, the exhale of it traveling down his body in a shudder. Hunter felt some of the tension leave him, his face tilting to nuzzle against Hunter's palm. The older man reciprocated by rubbing his thumb slowly in circles on Roman's cheek, smearing wet patches of tears against the fresh bruises from tonight's match.

"You've done your job already, Roman…" he whispered close. "Now let me do mine, okay?"

Roman nodded, falling against him again. There were no convulsions this time, just Hunter holding him close and tight, his earlier suspicions about the beginnings of a fever confirmed when he felt the heat all over Roman's body, and the cold sweat that was continuing to break across his skin.

"I know it's probably the last thing you want, but we need to get you fed—your stomach's been empty for hours,"

"Can't…" Roman said weakly. "Can't keep anything down."

"Let's start with some tea, and see if you can sleep for a bit, okay?" Hunter said. "Maybe you'll feel a bit better when you wake up."

Thankfully, Roman was able to sip at the tea until he got at least half the cup down, with no signs of his nausea returning. Hunter then set him down on the bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep, before extricating himself carefully and quietly making his way to the living room, grabbing his phone to dial Dean's number.

"How is he?" Dean said as soon as he picked up.

"Sleeping," Hunter said. "I got him showered and changed and he's…communicating again, at least."

There was a sigh of relief from the other end. "Oh, thank _fuck…_ "

"He still can't keep any food down," Hunter said. "I managed to get him to drink something, and I'll try to get some food in him in the next couple of hours…but he's starting to get feverish too."

"Motherfucker's the worst at taking care of himself," Dean muttered. "Always felt like he had to look out for everyone else before he'd even think of his own good…"

"It's probably psychosomatic, but I'll see how he feels in the morning," Hunter said. "Did someone come to pick you up already?"

"Yeah, I'm now sittin' pretty in the Westin, probably a few floors down from you," Dean said. "They also got the rest of his stuff…thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem," Hunter said. "You get some sleep, and make sure to get those staples looked at first thing in the morning by the trainers, okay?"

Dean huffed, probably disliking being told what to do like a child but unable to put up any resistance. "Yeah…"

Hunter chewed his lip, thinking over his next words carefully. "Dean…I know what you're probably thinking. Just say it."

There was a loud, exasperated sigh before Dean's voice returned. "This whole situation sucks, Trips…like what the fuck did he ever do wrong? He deserves better than this…this mess that he's gotten into."

"I know," Hunter agreed.

"And _you_ …of all people, you who've spent the better part of last year nailing him through the mattress across America for all I know, you didn't see any of this coming? You didn't try to fix this before it got this bad?"

Hunter closed his eyes. A part of him wanted to fire jabs right back at Dean, probably dress him down for his insolence, but he knew the truth in those words even if his pride didn't want him to admit it.

"I wish I had…" Hunter said. "What more do you want me to say, Dean? I thought it would pass—we all did."

"Well it didn't," Dean said bitterly. "And I don't see how it's gonna get any better for him."

"I can't change what's already happened," Hunter said. "As for what's next…"

"Oh, that's right, I forgot—" Dean's voice turned cold and mocking. "You don't actually control much of that _yet,_ do you?"

Hunter bit back the retort that was at the tip of his tongue, willing himself to stay calm. "No."

"Look…" Dean paused, an uneasy shuffling audible in the background. "He obviously likes being with you, so I got nothing to say about that, I just…I don't want things to get worse for him."

"He's _safe_ when he's with me," Hunter said. "It's when he's out there…that's where I can't…can't really do much for him."

"Bet that bothers you, huh?" Dean said. "Mr. Cerebral Assassin, groomed to take over the company, so used to being able to manipulate things to his advantage…"

"Yes, yes it _does_ bother me," Hunter replied sharply. "You happy now, Ambrose? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Dean fell silent for a few long moments.

"Dean…I'm doing what I can over here," Hunter said. "I'm trying."

"Yeah, yeah…" Dean said, exhaustion clear in the brittleness of his voice. "I'm…sorry, this night's been all kinds of shit."

"Tell me about it," Hunter said. "You should get some rest…I'll update you on Roman in the morning."

"Cool…" Dean said. "Night, then."

Hunter hung up and let his phone clatter onto the dining room table, sitting himself down heavily as he rubbed his face in his hands. The ache in his bones from his own match with Sting seemed centuries away, like a memory already forgotten, his thoughts now occupied with Roman and what he could possibly do at this point, if anything, to even begin to fix the situation.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp cry from the bedroom, which had Hunter bolting out of his seat and through the door in record time. Roman was sitting up in the bed, panting heavily, his eyes searching around the room until he found Hunter in the doorway. It was obvious that he'd woken up from some kind of terrible nightmare, his whole body trembling. Hunter was back at his side in a flash, arms around his shoulders as he tried to calm him down.

"Are you…are you really here?" Roman said, his voice quivering, hands scrabbling at the collar of Hunter's t-shirt. "This real?"

"Right here, I'm right here…" Hunter assured him. "What's wrong, baby boy? What'd you dream about?"

Roman fell against his chest, still breathing heavily. "The stadium…back at the stadium…alone, nobody else there…"

"You're not at the stadium anymore, you're here with me…" Hunter said, grasping Roman's fingers tight to ground him. The fever was rising, he could feel it all through Roman's body, even more pronounced when he pressed his forehead against the younger man's, the heat of him seeping through.

"Place was fucking empty—" Roman continued. "Couldn't find you, couldn't find Dean, couldn't find anyone…"

"Dean's right here, in this same hotel—he got here not long after we did," Hunter said. "I'm here too…"

Roman sagged against him, his ragged breathing beginning to stabilize as Hunter swept his sweat-plastered hair away from his face, cradling him gently.

"Baby, you really need to eat something—you're only gonna get sicker if you don't…" Hunter said.

"Can't…" Roman said. "Stomach still feels all wrong. Don't wanna throw up again."

Hunter patted his thigh lightly. "Think you can take liquids?"

Roman nodded. "I think…I think so."

"Okay, stay here…" Hunter said as he rose off the bed, Roman's hands clutching emptily after him, desperate to maintain contact. "I'll be right back, let me go fix something up for you."

The protein mix Hunter kept in his gym bag wasn't going to set the culinary world on fire, but at least it was in liquid form and he knew it was the same brand and flavor Roman used. More than that, he'd done this for Roman several times before, when the boy was too shaken or tired to eat properly, so hopefully by now Roman would've associated the taste of it with Hunter, with the feeling of being cared for.

He shook the shaker bottle vigorously for a lot longer than he normally would, wanting to get the fluid in as smooth a consistency as possible. Then he climbed back onto the bed and gathered Roman into his arms, leaning against the headboard and allowing the younger man to rest against his chest, his feverish body heat bleeding through the blankets Hunter had wrapped him in.

"You want Daddy to feed you?" Hunter asked as he brushed his lips against Roman's forehead, and Roman nodded weakly.

Hunter fed him the mixture slowly, rocking him gently throughout and watching for any signs of the returning nausea, which thankfully didn't come. Roman soon got into a steady rhythm of sucking on the bottle's nozzle and swallowing slowly. His breathing evened out and his eyelids began to droop, signifying that he was getting more relaxed and comfortable.

He'd half-expected to be slightly weirded out by the whole thing, or that Roman would be, but instead it felt like the most natural thing for him to do. Hunter felt intensely protective of Roman right now, on top of his usual possessiveness. He needed to ensure his baby boy was fed, that he was being looked after, and he didn't care how absurd the notion was that he was sitting there cradling one of his top talents and—for all intents and purposes, bottle-feeding him.

This was the small, private world he shared with Roman, in snatches of time between cities and shows, where Roman didn't need to think and worry and concern himself with what anybody else thought of him. All he needed to know was that Hunter was there for him, and that no harm would come to him in these precious few hours that they had to themselves. Roman looked up at him and Hunter smiled down at his boy with easy affection, watching Roman's throat convulse as he swallowed the last of the mixture in the bottle.

"That's a good boy…" he kissed the last drips of it off Roman's lips.

"Thank you, Daddy…"

"Try going back to sleep, okay? I'll stay with you this time…"

Roman wiped his mouth with one hand and settled back into the covers, Hunter settling in next to him. He knew by now that Roman didn't like waking up to sunlight coming through the windows—it brought him back to reality a little too soon and too harshly, so Hunter always made sure he slept facing the far wall, or that Hunter's own body was there to shield him from the morning light.

He pressed tiny kisses against Roman's heated neck as the day's exhaustion finally caught up with them both, dragging them into what he could only hope, for Roman's sake, was a deep and dreamless sleep.

—

Roman's fever broke in the morning, when Hunter was roused from sleep by his watch beeping his usual 6 a.m alarm. Normally he'd be out of bed and putting in a good hour of exercise before settling down to do some paperwork, but this time he wanted to make sure he was there when Roman woke up. He patted some of the sweat away from the younger man's neck and back with the towel Roman had used the night before, feeling him slowly stir awake.

"Mornin'…" Hunter said softly when Roman looked over his shoulder at him, blinking wearily with red-rimmed eyes. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah…" Roman turned to face the wall again, but pressed himself back against Hunter under the covers.

"Feel better?"

"Won't know until I try to get up or eat something…" Roman said.

Hunter tightened his arm around the boy's waist. "I'm gonna get you moved down the card for tonight's episode, okay? Let Seth take up the segments—you don't have to show up until the last hour or so."

"Okay…" was the weakly-muttered reply.

Normally Roman would object to something like this, he didn't like being treated like he was made of glass and was eager to put his work in and earn his dues, but last night seemed to have taken a lot of the fight out of him. Hunter knew the last thing he wanted was for Roman to have to soak up heat during an opening promo when the wounds from the main event were still so raw.

"How much…how much time do we have?" Roman asked.

"It's only six in the morning," Hunter told him. "Arena's only a few blocks away—we can stay here awhile,"

Roman shifted around, turning to face Hunter. He didn't look nearly as lost and broken as he had last night, but not entirely whole again, either. He reached up, fingers tracing the stubble on Hunter's chin.

"D-daddy…" he started, wetting his lips as he spoke.

"What, baby boy? What do you need?"

"You…" Roman said as he bowed his head, as if ashamed to ask. "Need you."

Hunter felt heat stirring deep inside him, the flicker of something that had been furthest from his mind last night. "You sure? You know Daddy _always_ wants you, but he doesn't want to hurt you, either…"

"Won't fix things…" Roman said knowingly. "But it'll feel good."

Hunter smiled, pulling Roman's chin up and kissing him, drawing him in closer. Roman opened up easily for him, like he always did, letting Hunter's tongue roam his mouth, letting Hunter's hands slowly maneuver them so half of his weight was now settled on top of Roman.

"I can do that for you…" Hunter said when they broke apart, grinding their bodies together. "How do you want it?"

"Any…any way you like," Roman said, kissing the tip of Hunter's stubbled chin. "I trust you, Daddy…"

Something lurched inside Hunter then, something that had little to do with the desire pooling heavy in his groin, but he returned the kiss and guided Roman's body with his hands. "Lie on your side, baby boy…yeah, just like that."

There wasn't much he could do for prep except spit, but he spent a good long while fingering Roman open, kissing his neck and shoulder all the way through it, his other arm braced across Roman's chest as the boy suckled on his digits. Hunter was determined to take it slow, as slow as he could manage with Roman feeling so needy in his arms, and the soft noises that was coming from his throat that never failed to drive Hunter crazy.

He pulled his fingers out slowly and draped Roman's leg back over his hip, reaching down to work some of his own pre-come down his shaft as extra lubrication as he angled himself at Roman's entrance. The push inside was slow—Roman was still inexplicably tight even after all this time and Hunter didn't want to cause him any unnecessary discomfort, but steadily he worked himself in until his entire length was sheathed inside Roman's tight heat, the boy letting out a pleasured whine—music to Hunter's ears after last night.

"That feel good?"

"Always…" Roman said as he pushed his hips back against Hunter, clenching to draw him in deeper.

Hunter rocked their bodies into a steady rhythm, content to let the slow burn overtake them both, his nose buried in the crook of Roman's shoulder, nipping softly at the lines of his ink.

"Want you to remember this…" he said softly. "Whenever you're with me, like this, you're _mine_ , okay? Nobody else gets to touch you, or even see you."

Roman shuddered. "Yes…"

"I won't let anybody even come near you—" Hunter continued. "Gonna keep you safe, take care of you…"

They both knew those were promises meant for within these walls only—broken as soon as either of them stepped out of the doors, shattered by the swipe of a key card. Even now, with the morning creeping up on them, the walls were already beginning to crumble. But Hunter was determined to shore them up as best he could, with words and caresses, put Roman's pieces back together from the splintered fragments of the previous night.

He batted away Roman's hand from his own cock, whispering "Let me…" as he stroked him in rhythm to his thrusts, Roman trembling in his arms the whole time.

"Close, Daddy…" the boy whimpered. "So close…"

"You're gonna come first…" Hunter said firmly. "Let me feel it, come on…"

Roman did just that, coming with a hoarse cry as his dick sputtered in Hunter's hand, coating it with sticky release. Hunter held himself still inside Roman as the orgasm ripped through the boy's body, loving the tight clench of him, the involuntary shudders it produced against his tight embrace.

"Thank you…" Roman whispered as he pulled up Hunter's messy hand, punctuating his words by licking himself off each of Hunter's fingers. It was all the encouragement Hunter needed to resume moving, fucking into Roman a little faster this time, the flick of the boy's tongue—which was practically sin made flesh—feeding into his desire.

When he knew he was close he drew his fingers out of Roman's mouth and turned his face around, kissing him and tasting come on Roman's tongue as he drilled in deep, hips bucking into Roman's backside. He came like that, with his mouth still latched with Roman's, messy and wet, swallowing Roman's moans and whimpers and the taste of his release.

Hunter would build these walls over and over, as many times as it took, in as many cities and as many rooms as he had to, even if they were little more than flimsy shelters disguised with expensive bedding and marbled bathtubs, short-lived fantasies decorated with beveled doorknobs and ten different flavors of herbal tea.

"Mine…" Hunter rasped through his teeth when they had to part for breath, holding on to the word as much as he held on to Roman, the truth and the lie of it blurring together as daylight seeped in, Roman's eyes shut tight against it.


	7. Royal Rumble - 2016

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** This will probably be the darkest chapter yet, given the timeframe. Not so much on the angst this time around but more on the angry, twisted, messed-up sex that is the flipside of the tenderness we saw in the last chapter. I promise I'll make the next one happy for once (and shamelessly smutty, too)!

Specific warnings for this chapter: dubious consent, bondage, sex tinged with violence, blood, dom/sub play, name-calling…well, you get the idea.

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This wasn't entirely new for him.

Roman had been on his knees for Hunter countless times before, on lush hotel carpets and cold tile floors alike, his own weight resting on his calves and threatening to cut off his circulation.

Having his hands tied behind his back with a leather belt wasn't something new, either—Hunter had done that to him on several occasions, whenever he felt like he needed to dial up the power play, or whenever Roman needed to go down real quick and hard.

Hunter's dick in his mouth was a familiar sensation, too—the weight and heat of it resting against his tongue, the girth making Roman's eyes water as he stretched his lips to accommodate. He'd been instructed explicitly not to get the older man off, restricting himself to gentle sucking and occasional flicks of his tongue, which had gone on for what felt like hours. Roman's spit was dripping down his chin, his jaw sore from the strain of keeping his mouth open around Hunter and his teeth covered, his own cock jutting hard and neglected from between his legs as he knelt there naked, his mouth reduced to a mere hole Hunter was using to keep his dick warm.

No, there really wasn't anything here that they hadn't done before—except for one little detail that Roman was painfully reminded of each time he dared to look up.

Hunter was seated at the edge of the large chair in the hotel room, hands resting on the armrests and his face a cold, hard mask of absolute control. The World Heavyweight Title, a bejeweled strap of black leather that had rested on Roman's shoulder up until a few hours ago, was draped across Hunter's waist, its garish emblem just inches from Roman's face, Hunter's newly-installed iron crosses gleaming from the sideplates.

Tonight, Roman wasn't on his knees for his Daddy. He was, quite literally, bowing down to the King of Kings, the newly-crowned Champion, the man who had ended Roman's title reign to the crowd's sheer delight, whose mere entrance into the arena had set the place on fire. A man who wielded the power to command the respect or scorn of thousands, whichever he chose, with a mere look in his eyes or a few choice words on the microphone.

Power Roman could never hope to wield—and one that was slipping further and further away from him.

Losing the title to Hunter had been the easy part—it was almost a welcome relief after a night of being built up as "one-versus-all", video packages which made Roman cringe but had little power to change, entry after entry coming into the ring to beat the shit out of him when he just wanted the night to be over and done with. When Hunter had held the title aloft and stared down at him with the roar of the crowd behind him, Roman had felt every bone in his body turn into lead—all the fight gone out of him. They were so loud, so loud in their approval of their new champion and in their disdain for Roman, that he'd wanted nothing more than to crawl into the ring and lay himself at Hunter's feet right then and there.

Why the fuck not, Roman had thought as he made the slow, painful walk backstage, still selling the heck out of the damage the League of Nations had inflicted on him. Why not finish the job right then and there, humiliate and degrade him until there was nothing left, show the crowd that the former Champion, the supposed leader of a so-called 'Empire', was nothing more than Triple H's bitch, a pliant and willing body he could use however he pleased?

He needed this—needed to feel the crushing weight of Hunter's power over him, needed it to drown out the noise in his head, needed the fog to be so thick inside his mind that nothing could penetrate through.

"You know, a lot gets thrown around backstage about your mic skills needing some work…" Hunter said casually as he looked down at Roman. "But why bother? I think we both know what your mouth is best for, don't we?"

Roman's lips fluttered around Hunter's cock at that, a shudder passing through his body.

"Too bad we weren't doing this when I used to come out for Wrestlemania seated on a throne like this chair…" the older man tapped his fingers against the armrests. "Would've loved to go out there with you kneeling like this, sucking my dick and showing the entire stadium what a whore you are,"

Roman moaned aloud, his mind flooded with images painted by Hunter's words, wrists straining against the belt holding them together at his back.

"Yeah, you actually like the sound of that, don't you?" Hunter smacked his right cheek, not hard but enough to sting. "My little whore of an ex-champion, all used up and broken—but always, always you come crawling back to me for more."

Hunter grabbed the back of Roman's head without warning and pulled him close, forcing his dick down Roman's throat and making him gag. Roman spluttered, fighting to keep his breathing as tears rolled free of his eyes, spit bubbling across his lips as a painful retch tore from deep inside him.

"You're a messy slut…" Hunter said almost affectionately, his fingers tangling in Roman's hair. "So fucking shameless."

Roman wanted to drown in that voice, to lose himself in the words that cut him apart like he was nothing, every shred of pride gone and stamped under Hunter's foot, incinerated in the glare of his eyes and the garish belt now bumping the ridge of Roman's nose.

"Took nearly all the roster to beat the fight out of you tonight, but the moment you saw me…you knew you were _done_ , weren't you?" Hunter said as he clasped Roman's chin roughly.

Roman nodded, as much as he could with Hunter's cock lodged so deep in his throat.

"Yeah, saw it in your eyes the second I walked out on that ramp…you'd have rung the bell yourself and handed this thing to me on your knees if you could," Hunter tapped at the title belt with his other hand. "A good little slut who knows he's been put in his place."

Roman dragged his tongue along the underside of Hunter's cock, murmuring his appreciation. He was falling, head so murky only Hunter's voice could cut through the haze. His muscles were straining, tired from the long, heavy slog of the Royal Rumble and further aggravated by being in this position for such a stretch of time, consciousness reduced to the narrowest point of focus he could manage, the presence seated in power before him and the control he had over Roman.

"Off," Hunter commanded, yanking at Roman's hair to pull him away, his length sliding out of Roman's mouth. Roman leaned back, a thick trail of spit still connecting his lips to Hunter's cock, his own erection dripping into the carpet below.

Hunter backhanded him across the face, whipping Roman's head to one side and making him let out a sharp cry of pain and surprise. It wasn't Hunter's full strength—Roman would be unconscious if that had been the case, but it hit him hard enough that his cheek stung and his vision blurred. It hurt more than any of the bumps and hits Roman had taken tonight, more than being put through a table and slammed against ringposts. It struck Roman where nobody had dared to strike him before, defenseless, the intent behind it not to wound his body but his pride.

"More…" he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Hunter pulled at his hair again.

"I said, _more_ …" Roman nearly spat out, though he could feel his voice withering as Hunter's intense gaze drilled into him. "Please…" he added, almost as an afterthought.

Hunter made a soft noise of amusement and leaned back, lifting his hand again. He hit Roman with the palm of his hand this time, and the fact that Roman saw it coming did little to lessen the pain.

"I guess losing brings out the painslut in you, huh?" Hunter said as he gripped Roman's aching jaw. "That's interesting…"

"I just…" Roman struggled to get his words out through his swollen lips, his face beginning to bruise in Hunter's strong hand. "I need…need something that hurts more."

"Well, aren't you a lucky little bitch, then…" Hunter stood up, one hand still gripping Roman's face while the other held on to the title belt. "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's to _hurt_ …"

Roman strained his neck to maintain eye contact, the full height of Hunter looming over his kneeling form, aware of how utterly helpless he was in his predicament.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, Hunter struck him again, the force of it nearly enough to topple Roman to the floor. He gasped, tasting blood in his mouth, feeling it well up over a split in his lips.

Hunter yanked him up by the shoulders and tossed him unceremoniously into the bed, landing face-first awkwardly, unable to halt his momentum with his hands tied behind his back. Roman felt a sharp relief flood over him upon contact with the much more welcoming surface, though he knew his respite would be short-lived. Behind him, he could feel Hunter climbing onto the bed after him, knees knocking Roman's apart to make room.

"Not gonna give you much prep…" Hunter said. "I don't think you're gonna complain all that much."

Roman shook his head—he needed Hunter _now_ , needed the sharp burn of and the weight of the other man's body pressed down on him, needed to feel the hard thrust of cock into his unprepared hole, dragging abusively against his inner walls and the litany of filth that went with it, needed to be taken apart and reduced into a willing receptacle for Hunter's pleasure.

Hunter jabbed two fingers inside him, minimally coated with spit, scissoring him open as he draped his body over Roman's back, breathing lustfully against his ear.

"Normally I wouldn't mind you coming untouched just from me fucking you…" he growled as his fingers drove deeper and deeper. "That's how much of a slut you are for my cock, isn't it? Just having it inside you is enough to get you off…"

Roman nodded frantically, pushing back against those invading digits.

"But not tonight," Hunter said. "Tonight, you come only when I tell you to—you got it?"

"Yes, sir…" Roman said weakly, his bloodied lips starting to speckle the white sheets with beads of crimson.

A third finger was added, Roman's hole stretching painfully at the rim to accommodate them, his eyes shut tight and his mouth open to let out ragged breaths. He wanted Hunter to wreck him, destroy him, finish him until there was nothing left, nothing left of Roman Reigns, the man that had been so stubbornly built up only to be torn down by one swift move from the only person who wielded true power, The Game, who held control over his mind and body like strings on a puppet.

"Maybe this is why they don't make you lose often," Hunter said as he rose up, fingers withdrawing from Roman sharply and landing a smack on his backside. "Maybe they know what it does to you, how you can't help but fall apart and go crawling after whoever beat you, begging for their cock…"

Roman buried his nose deeper into the sheets, the words shredding into him like shrapnel. "No, sir…it's only you, I swear, I swear it's only you—"

"Shut the fuck up," Hunter cut him off and rammed inside him in one savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt and knocking Roman forward until his head nearly bumped against headboard. Roman couldn't help but cry out, the sharp burn of it bringing tears to his eyes, barely able to catch his breath before Hunter started moving, thick fingers gripping both of Roman's hips for leverage.

It was too much, too much and not enough at the same time, Roman's wrists twitching helplessly in their bindings as he was fucked, as hard as he'd ever been, each thrust pushing his face further and further into the sheets until he almost couldn't breathe. Hunter pulled at the belt holding his wrists together and yanked back, straining Roman's shoulders even further, riding him like a beast, grunting low and harsh, the sound of it rippling up Roman's spine.

Roman fought to keep his aching dick from rubbing against the sheets, knowing each bit of friction would only bring him closer and closer to coming, unwilling to imagine the consequences of failing Hunter's orders. He was so far gone, title belts and hostile crowds driven out of his mind by sheer physical sensations, the fog now thickened into a shroud around him, binding and suffocating, blood ringing in his ears, spitting from his mouth, running like hot lava in his veins.

He knew by now how long Hunter could keep going like this, how far he could prolong Roman's torment, how easy his body was to manipulate to the older man's wishes.

Then, without warning, Hunter pulled out—the sudden ache and emptiness forcing a loud moan out of Roman's throat.

"Easy there, little slut…we're not done yet," Hunter chuckled darkly as he flipped Roman over like he weighed nothing, grabbing for his ankles and pushing them forward until Roman was nearly folded in half, dark eyes burning straight into him as he thrust back in.

Roman howled, the new angle jabbing him straight at his sensitive little spot, the sparks of pleasure rippling through him counterpointed with the harsh pain—his heaven and his hell merged into one. His bound wrists now underneath his body, the metal of the belt buckle digging into his lower back, Roman was acutely aware of how _everything_ hurt—his strained muscles, his poor little hole that Hunter was fucking into, his sore mouth that had strained around the older man's dick, his lip split from Hunter's hand, the roots of his hair from where Hunter had yanked him roughly.

Only Hunter could hurt him like this—only Hunter _knew_ how to hurt him, that had been obvious from way back when they first started messing around with each other, when Hunter had staked a claim over him and never left him alone since. Roman had fallen under his spell like some kind of paperback virgin, molded and shaped until he suited Hunter's needs, until he knew how to please and beg and submit.

Maybe that was all he would ever be good for, maybe that was all he ever _needed_ to be. If pleasing an audience of millions was out of his grasp, then at least he could please one man, couldn't he?

Hunter moved in as if to kiss him but Roman turned his face away, flinching at the thought of any tenderness intruding. Hunter settled on licking at his jaw instead, moving downward to suck harshly at his neck, undoubtedly leaving marks, ugly red hickeys that would turn blue tomorrow, marks Roman would have to let down his hair to cover up but would rather wear proudly instead, let the world see who owned him.

Hunter shoved Roman's ankles even further back over his body, stretching him to the limit of his flexibility, pounding hard and deep, his pace picking up as he neared climax. Bent backwards like this Roman could see Hunter's cock driving in and out of his body, the slick sounds of it echoing loud in the room, his hole open and helpless to the invasion. Tears were falling freely from his eyes now, his mouth struggling to take in breaths as his nose felt clogged up.

"You need my come in this needy little hole of yours?" Hunter grunted.

"Yes, sir…" Roman choked out, his voice nearly gone. "Please…please come inside me."

Hunter did just that, burying himself deep one last time and holding Roman still, his own muscles straining with the effort, face contorting with mixed pleasure and menace as he came. Roman could feel it filling him up, hot and thick against his battered insides, his own cock twitching weakly at the sensation, desperate and straining. Hunter let Roman's legs go, falling limply against the mattress, riding him through the aftershocks.

"Should plug you up so you don't lose any of it…" Hunter muttered under his breath. "But let's save that for some other time."

Roman bit his lip, his own cock aching for release, oozing against his stomach as if begging for attention. Hunter took a swipe at the gleaming head with one hand, forcing another moan out of Roman as he struggled not to come, not to lose himself to the rough friction of the calloused fingers stroking at him.

"Poor little thing…" Hunter said mock-sweetly as he cradled Roman's cock in his hand, palm rubbing at the sensitive underside. "So desperate…"

"Please…" Roman whimpered.

Hunter's grip tightened, starting to stroke in earnest as he fell forward onto Roman, lips latching onto one hard nipple and sucking loudly. "Come…" he said with the hard nub caught between his teeth.

Roman lost it right there, climax ripped through him by the sheer force of Hunter's command and the contact made on his flesh, teeth and fingers and a cock still lodged deep inside, screaming himself raw until all remaining strength left him. He fell limp as a ragdoll in the aftermath, tense muscles unwinding into liquid as Hunter withdrew from him, and for a moment it felt like he might actually lose consciousness, the edges of his vision growing blurry and black.

"Stay with me…" he could distantly hear Hunter's voice as he was rolled onto his side, deft hands undoing the bindings around his wrists. Roman drew his hands to his face as soon as they were free, rubbing at the raw flesh of his wrists, the indents left by the strap of the belt and its metal hardware. He curled up, tucking into his own chest, only faintly registering the feeling of Hunter leaving the bed and rummaging around the room, of the bathroom lights being switched on, of water running in the sink. Tentatively, Roman licked at his raw wrists, tasting leather and sweat and feeling the sting of the reddish welts that ran across his skin, the purplish bulge of his veins underneath them.

Hunter returned with a damp washcloth and gently coaxed his legs open, and Roman complied without looking. He wasn't sure what he'd see in Hunter's eyes then, wasn't sure if he'd be ready for it, what this meant for them down the line.

"Am I…bleeding down there?" he asked after several minutes had passed and Hunter had finished cleaning off most of his lower body.

"A little," Hunter said, working the damp cloth on Roman's stomach.

Roman bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. "Good…" he muttered.

Hunter's hand stopped moving. "Is that what you needed?"

Roman nodded his head slowly. "Don't ask me to explain…"

"I won't," Hunter promised. "If any of this actually helps you, that's enough for me."

Anger flared in Roman's chest then, hot and sudden, and he twisted his head to look at Hunter. "Don't do that…don't fucking say that to me."

Hunter looked genuinely taken aback. "What?"

"We've been doing this long enough, Hunter…we both know you're not doing this out of the pure _kindness_ of your good old heart," Roman spat out bitterly. "Don't make me out to be a charity case. You got off on that just as much as I did. Don't even fucking pretend you didn't."

Hunter was still for a few moments, nostrils flaring as his eyes locked with Roman's heated gaze, and for a moment Roman almost expected to get hit again. But then the older man's shoulders sagged and he tossed the washcloth aside, sighing deeply as he moved to sit next to Roman, though not quite touching him.

"You're right…" he said. "I shouldn't have said that." He reached for one of Roman's wrists, pausing just as his fingers skirted over the raw flesh. "Okay if I touch you?"

Roman nodded slowly as Hunter took his hand, threading their fingers together as his other hand inspected the marks his belt had left there. He pressed his thumb into the indent and Roman winced, but didn't move to take his hand away.

"One of these days…you're going to push me too far, and I'm going to do something I regret," Hunter said. "You know what gets me, and by now you're as good at getting me worked up as I am with you."

"Thanks for the compliment," Roman mumbled.

"Roman, I'm serious…" Hunter tightened his hand slightly. "This isn't even half of what I'm capable of."

Roman pushed himself up off the bed, ignoring his protesting muscles and sore backside as he sat up, determined to look at Hunter at eye level. "That's why you made me choose a safeword, right?"

Hunter chuckled bitterly. "You've never even _used_ your safeword…"

"Never had reason to," Roman shrugged.

There was something in Hunter's eyes which suggested that he didn't quite believe him, and Roman couldn't blame him. He started to stand up and walk away when Hunter's hand on his wrist caught him.

"Where you going?"

"Back to my room…" Roman said as he pulled his hand free, moving to gather his clothes off the floor.

"You're not staying?"

"Can't…" Roman shook his head, which was still hazy and half-dazed as he struggled to put his clothes back on. Normally, he'd welcome the prospect of sleeping in Hunter's bed for the rest of the night, safely cocooned in arms which had only moments ago destroyed him, but he'd made up his mind about tonight-and about the months to come.

Hunter at least had the presence of mind to help him get dressed, doing up the buttons of his shirt, a task Roman couldn't manage with how badly his fingers were shaking. After he was dressed Hunter also made him sit down and drink half a bottle of water he'd pulled from the minibar, cooling his parched throat. When Roman had gained back more of his senses and the ability to speak, he finally looked up at Hunter who was standing cautiously near the doorway.

"I need a break…" he started. "…from this. From _us_."

Hunter sighed, nodding his head slowly. "I had a feeling you'd say that…"

Roman stood up slowly, walking gingerly towards where Hunter stood, every ache and pain in his body magnified with each step. "I just…they're gonna make us beat the living crap out of each other for the next couple of months, and I can't….I can't…."

 _I can't do it if all I can think of is how much I want you, how good you've been to me, how much I fucking need you all the time._

"…it doesn't feel right," Roman finished his sentence awkwardly.

"I know," Hunter said.

"I'm sorry," he hung his head.

"Don't be…" Hunter assured him. "You do whatever you need—for you, okay?"

 _I need you. I'll always need you. I never stopped needing you from the first time you touched me._

"Okay…" Roman said. "Thank you."

A few minutes later he was out of the suite, the heavy doors shutting behind him as he stood in the glaring rights of the deserted hotel corridor, garish and bright, hands dug deep into the pockets of his hoodie where they balled into fists. Slowly walking towards the elevators on shaky legs, he pretended not to hear the muffled noise of anguish coming from behind the door he'd just left, and the lound banging of it being kicked in frustration.

—

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ…" Dean said from the bathroom door. "What the fuck did that old bastard do to you?!"

Roman knew how he must have looked, standing naked just outside of the shower booth. The noise of him clattering about the bathroom must have woken Dean up, seeing as how he's now standing with bleary eyes that were nonetheless alarmed as he gazed up and down Roman's body. Dean had seen Hunter's marks on him before but never like this, never so raw and fresh, and never so many of them all at once.

"Nothing I didn't ask him to…" Roman replied.

Dean's face tightened with the telltale signs of words that were being held back, which was uncharacteristic of Dean, especially when he'd been roused from sleep at assfuck o'clock in the morning.

"Please tell me he at least took care of you afterwards…" Dean said.

"Yeah…" Roman nodded as he grabbed a towel off the wall rack. "Yeah, he did."

Dean sighed heavily and leaned against the doorframe. "Seth called earlier…"

"Yeah? How is the little shithead?" Roman asked as he dried off.

"Pissed off and whining about the knee, as ever—doesn't look like he's going to make it for Mania," Dean said. "He saw how the Rumble went down… wanted to know if you were okay."

"And…?"

"Told him the old man was taking care of you, which seemed to be good enough for him." Dean shrugged. "I hope it was good enough for _you_ …"

"More than enough," Roman said, not bothering to explain further. Dean didn't need to hear it—Roman wasn't fond of telling tales like Seth used to do way back then, when The Shield were still together and him and Hunter were getting it on regularly, talking Dean and Roman's ears off about how fucking amazing the older man was and how much he liked being a slut for his 'Big Daddy'. Mostly he did it to rile Dean and Roman up into getting a little rough with him, Dean calling him a shameless little pervert and Seth calling him one right back.

Roman missed those days. As messed up as they were, things were simpler back then.

When he finished changing into his sleeping clothes and came out of the bathroom, Dean was back on his bed again—hands tucked behind his head. Roman was just about ready to pull the covers back on his own pristine, untouched bed when a thought struck him. Not just a thought but a _need_ , albeit one far removed from anything he ever needed from Hunter.

"Dean…" Roman said. "Can you…scoot over?"

Dean looked up at him for a few seconds, then smiled lopsidedly and moved over, making room for Roman on the mattress and patting the space next to him. "Come up here, you big pussycat…"

Dean smelled like aftershave and tobacco, there was always something unkempt and loose about him even when he's on his best behavior—which was almost never. Roman had always appreciated that about him, how easy and generous Dean was with both his affections and his violence. The bed was too small for them but they made do, just like they had when Seth was still rooming with them, Roman's head coming to rest on the crook of Dean's shoulder. Dean patted his head lightly, like the softest tag possible, yawning wide as he switched off the bedside lamp.

"Y'know, it's funny how I used to run in a stable with two of the biggest fucking headcases I know, and yet somehow I'm still the 'Lunatic' in the group…"

Roman chuckled at that, his first real taste of mirth in the last twelve hours, and settled himself to sleep, Dean's steady heartbeat serving as his lullaby.


	8. Off The Grid - 2016

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** All right, I promised y'all a happier chapter for once, didn't I? Well, it seems that the 30 days of Roman's suspension is way too long for me to cover off in one chapter, so I guess that makes two happy chapters? Yay? Here's the first installment, with 7000+ words of Hunter being super duper extra with his whole Daddy thing and Roman…well, Roman's in for quite a ride. Enjoy!

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Thirty days.

Thirty fucking days of the biggest stinking pile of bullshit he's been dealt this year alone, which was saying something, and worst of all—he couldn't blame anyone but himself for it.

No doubt the internet had gone nuclear by now with accusations of him being some kind of juiced-up 'roid junkie, but Roman knew better than to stray into that minefield when he was already so close to breaking and smashing things in his apartment.

Seth was furious with him, even though he knew it was more administrative negligence on Roman's part and not actual substance abuse, but he was pissed nonetheless. He'd only just gotten back, and was really chomping at the bit to have a go at anyone and everyone it seemed, as if wanting to make up for six months' absence in a few weeks' worth of episodes. And Dean…well, Dean was the World Heavyweight Champion now, at least there was that, and Roman was happy for him regardless of the circumstances.

Headquarters had been strict about the terms of his suspension: no television or live show appearances, no public events, no signings, and no statements made on social media except for one accepting responsibility for the whole debacle, which no doubt the rest of the online world would jump on with their own bullshit. Roman had taken it all in stride, or at least tried to, until he was alone in his apartment in Pensacola and going half out of his mind with just what he was going to do with himself.

He thought of going for a run around the complex or hitting the gym and taking his frustrations out on a punching bag, but it was just past noon and sweltering outside, and the local gym would probably have at least a few people who recognized him—Roman didn't feel like having someone upload a blurry picture of him working out on Instagram, not so soon after the news had gone out that he'd been suspended.

Maybe he'd finish painting the spare room that had languished in its half-finished state for what seemed like eternity. Or maybe he'd rent a room down in Orlando and spend his days in the Performance Center, where at least he could train around familiar faces and catch up with some old friends. Or fuck it, maybe he should just go to the Magic Kingdom and ride Splash Mountain all damn day. He needed the break, anyway. Perhaps this wasn't how he'd planned on getting it, but what's done is done.

His phone was ringing and buzzing near-constantly, to the point where Roman wanted to fling the damn thing across the room. Mostly it was just family and friends, to whom he'd had to repeat the same explanation over and over whilst keeping his cool. He'd stubbornly ignored any calls from media outlets or unrecognized numbers, and turned off notifications for his Twitter replies. Someone from the PR and Social Media Division would be watching over his account for the next thirty days, he didn't need to even come near it.

He had his laptop open and was seriously just about to start looking up the current prices for Disney's Park Hopper packages when his phone rang, not with its usual ring tone but with one he'd assigned to a specific contact, one he hadn't heard in months. Not Dean's. Not Seth's. Not Jimmy or Jey's.

 _Hunter_.

Roman stared at the caller ID on his phone as it rang on his coffee table, flooded with so many feelings at once he couldn't even begin to untangle one from another, before what small portion of his brain was still capable of rational thought reminded him that this was still, in fact, his boss—so he reached over and picked it up.

"Look, I've already had the honor of getting chewed out by Vince and half of senior management, okay….so I don't think there's anything you can say that I haven't already heard. But let's have it," he said, frustration bleeding into his voice.

"Wow, I was thinking more along the lines of 'hello' and 'how are you', but if you'd prefer to hear a corporate speech then I guess I can compose one and call back in five," Hunter sounded jovial, almost amused, which did little to ease Roman's frayed nerves.

"Seriously, Hunter…what do you want?"

"Oh, I don't know….majority share in the company, higher TV ratings, less paperwork and hassle to cut through whenever we're trying to bring in international talent…" Hunter rattled on. "…for now, I'd settle on knowing how fast you can pack a suitcase."

Roman frowned. "I…what?"

"I wanna take you off the grid, Reigns…" Hunter said. "Away from everything."

"Company's already doing that," Roman answered blankly, still not sure what Hunter was getting at. He had an idea, just the barest inkling of an idea, but he didn't dare hope too much.

"Yeah, and that means what—being cooped up in your apartment for the next thirty days and hoping people don't get in your face and ask you about this whole mess whenever you go out for groceries?"

"Well…" Roman shrugged.

"We can do better than that." Hunter said. "Just pack a suitcase. I'll take care of the rest."

Roman moved to sit down, heart hammering in his chest. It was almost too much to process, what Hunter was saying, and everything it implied. They hadn't spoken for _months—_ not that Roman had intended for the whole 'break' thing to last that long, it was just how things had played out. As soon as their Wrestlemania 32 feud was over, Hunter had gone straight back into the business side of things, while Roman had been thrust even more into the spotlight as the new World Heavyweight Champion. The few times he'd considered sending a text message or calling to casually ask how Hunter was doing, he'd stopped himself, rationalizing that the older man was probably busy, that they'd have very little to talk about anyway. But now here he was, hearing Hunter's voice again, and already it was beginning to wrap tendrils around him he thought he'd shaken loose. Roman didn't know whether he hated or loved it.

"Roman?"

"Thirty days is a _lot_ to pack for," Roman said, looking awkwardly around his apartment. He'd unpacked most of his road gear and luggage, and it dawned on him that he wouldn't necessarily know how to pack on short notice for something which didn't involve doing wrestling shows or training.

"Just pack enough for a weekend trip, and we'll take care of the rest along the way…" Hunter said casually. "In about an hour or so, someone will show up at your door with a car and a ticket for a flight to Orlando. I'll be waiting for you there."

"Wait…wait," Roman said, the rush of information making him feel a little light-headed. "You planned this whole thing already? Even before you called?"

"I'm not the world's most patient man," Hunter said, unapologetically.

"Yeah, I remember that about you…" Roman said.

"I hope that's not the only thing you remember…" Hunter said, voice dropping to a lower register. "But if it is, I've got thirty days to remind you of the rest…"

Roman shuddered, biting his lip against the noise that was threatening to escape his throat. A few months apart with barely any contact and _still,_ Hunter could do this to him, cast a spell over him with only a few words.

"It's…been a while, hasn't it?" he said.

"Too long," Hunter said from the other end. "But we can fix that…"

Roman sighed, recognizing the tone in Hunter's voice which signaled he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

"An hour, you said…"

"Give or take a few minutes, yeah…"

"And you'll be at the airport in Orlando?"

"I'll be there…" Hunter said. "I promise."

Roman closed his eyes. "Okay…"

There was more he wanted to ask, more he wanted to know about what Hunter had planned for him. But he had an hour to pack, about two hours of flying time, and Hunter would be waiting for him when he landed. He could ask then—or maybe he'd be so caught up in Hunter he wouldn't even care.

He suspected it would be the latter.

—

Dragging his hastily packed suitcase behind him as he made his way out of the arrival lounge in Orlando, Roman lowered his sunglasses over his face and prayed that nobody would recognize or try and strike up a conversation with him. Blending in with a crowd didn't exactly come easy to a man his size but he gave it his best, keeping his head low and his earphones plugged in as he scanned the area for his pickup.

He saw the company guy almost right away, one of the people who'd been on Hunter's staff for years, and they exchanged nods before Roman was led through the crowd towards where a black limousine was waiting. It wasn't the ostentatious stretch version that the McMahons sometimes rolled out for the sake of TV appearances, but it was still quite flashy. Roman swallowed hard in his throat as his luggage was loaded into the trunk—he didn't quite know what to expect, couldn't see past the darkened windows of the limo and felt uneasy knowing that whoever was inside could see him quite clearly.

When the door was finally opened to allow him to step inside he saw Hunter, seated at the far side, dark navy business suit and no tie. He'd grown his beard out since their last encounter at Wrestlemania, the dark blonde fuzz framing his face speckled with bits of grey. He looked damn good, and the little smile he gave Roman as he climbed into the limo set flutters in Roman's stomach like a fucking teenager.

Roman returned the smile, or at least tried to, as he sat down and the limo door was shut behind him.

"Drink?" Hunter said as he opened the cooler unit on the wall next to him.

"Just water, thanks…" Roman said, catching the bottle of Perrier Hunter tossed him. He drank quietly as the limo pulled out of its spot, wetting his lips with the cool liquid as he pulled his sunglasses off. "Where…where we headed to?"

"My apartment here in Orlando," Hunter said as he leaned back in his seat. "I got it a couple years ago when NXT started really picking up, figured I might as well have a place down here since I was gonna be spending a lot of time here between Full Sail and the Performance Center…"

"That's nice," Roman said non-commitally.

"Besides, I think you've had enough of hotel rooms for a while…thought I'd keep you somewhere you could at least stretch your legs out and feel a little more comfortable."

 _Keep you._

"You've had me in hotel rooms bigger than most people's apartments," Roman said. "Though I rarely got to see more than the bedroom."

Hunter chuckled lightly. "Well, you got me there…"

Roman set his water bottle in the slot at the bottom of the door panel and looked at Hunter, really looking at him for the first time since he got in the car. The last time they'd been alone with each other, their feud had worn both men down to frayed edges and tired-looking eyes, and Roman's bones ached just from the memories. Things hadn't exactly gotten better for him since as far as the crowds were considered—they were as hostile as ever, booing him every chance they got and cheering on whoever was put against him. Roman had begun to accept that it would probably be his lot for the rest of his career—and that the sooner he could learn to live with it, the better it would be for him in the long run.

Hunter had gone back into his business role as if nothing had changed, his last title reign already a distant memory, a necessity more than an achievement. Part of Roman had been angry about it, about how trivial it made everything feel, a man of Hunter's stature and track record being reduced to a transitional champion. Their match at Mania had not been a classic but they'd slogged through it nonetheless, and Roman had held his belt high just as Hunter had told him to do, stood proud in the hurricane of disdain that followed and had weathered the storm since.

"Thirty days…" he said at last, the words twisting between a blessing and a curse.

"You needed the break anyway," Hunter said, echoing the sentiment Roman had left unsaid.

"Yeah, I do…" Roman nodded slowly, casting his eyes around the rest of the limo's interior. It was fitted out with a few passenger conveniences like the drinks cooler and foldout tables, but nothing too fancy. A padded panel served as the divider between them and the driver's compartment, and the heavily-tinted windows made the late afternoon light ouside seem more like dusk.

Roman's world was shrinking, the same way it always did whenever he was alone with Hunter. The muffled rumble of the limo's engine and the noise of traffic outside seemed little more than background filler, the air heavy with the sound of his own breathing and the barest hint of Hunter's cologne drifting from where he sat. Already his limbs felt a little sluggish, a strange heat traveling up his spine as haziness descended over him.

"Hey…" Hunter said as he reached over, dragging the back of his knuckles down Roman's cheek. "Come here…"

Maybe it was that little touch that did it, or the voice, or the combination of the two. Whatever it was, Roman found himself moving so fast his head swam, straddling Hunter's lap with both hands on the older man's shoulders, mouth gasping like someone coming up for breath after a long, deep dive. Hunter caught him, one hand at the back of Roman's head and the other around his waist as their mouths met, Roman sucking at it hungrily like his life depended on it. Hunter tasted like his last meal and breath mints, his beard rubbing coarsely against Roman's jaw as his arm tightened around him like a vise.

Roman hadn't thought about this for the longest time, didn't allow himself to in case he found himself not being able to go another day without it, but here he was—back in the arms of the one man who could make him feel like the rest of the world couldn't touch him, who could keep him safe. 'Safe' usually meant a night cocooned in some fancy hotel suite after a long Pay-Per-View, fucking and sleeping and maybe fucking again before the inevitable intrusion of daylight would shatter the illusion. But now they had more than one night. They had thirty days. Thirty days and Roman couldn't even begin to imagine what Hunter would do to him in that time—all he knew was that he wanted it all.

He'd barely drawn back from their heated kiss to take a breath before Hunter pounced again, latching their lips together with even more urgency. Roman made a noise in the back of his throat and rubbed himself against Hunter shamelessly, the heat spiking inside him when Hunter bucked his hips up to meet him, cocks rubbing against each other through layers of clothing. Hunter's body felt just as tight and toned as he did when Roman last wrestled him, muscles stretching the fabric of his dress shirt underneath his suit, thighs easily supporting Roman's weight and thick arms keeping him close. They were of equal height if slightly different build, pound-for-pound probably of similar strength, but Hunter could bring Roman down with a finger if he'd wanted to, and often did so with no more than his voice. Roman loved that about this…thing of theirs, that there was never any question as to who held the power, relieving him of any need to make the decisions, except maybe on whether he wanted to be a good boy or a bad one. More often than not, he chose to be good—the rewards were more than worth it.

"Missed me?" Hunter smiled as he held Roman's face a breath apart from his.

"Like you wouldn't believe…" Roman let out in a sigh.

"Missed you too…" Hunter drew a thumb across Roman's bottom lip. "Can't believe I let you out of my sights for so long…"

"You gonna keep me in it for the next thirty days?" Roman said as he flicked his tongue against Hunter's thumb. "All for yourself?"

"All for myself, that's right…" Hunter nodded, a self-satisfied smirk blossoming over his face. "Gonna take real good care of you…"

Roman shuddered, the other part of the equation locking into place inside his mind. Hunter had always been a possessive lover, controlling and manipulative to the point where he could command Roman's body to do things he'd never thought he was capable of, whether it was coming untouched multiple times in one night, or taking Hunter so deep in his throat without gagging and holding him there until his jaw cramped, or feeding his ears with so much honeyed filth in words and asking him to repeat them back. But the same man who could—and have—destroyed him in a few hours' worth of relentless fucking was also the same man who'd bathed him and clothed him when he was half-dead from exhaustion, who'd rocked him to sleep when he was ill and feverish, pressed ice packs into his bruises, bottle-fed him protein mixes and fed spoonfuls of soup into his mouth when he was too sick and weak to eat anything solid. With Hunter, Roman had been toyed with, tormented, deep-throated, smacked around and fucked open within an inch of his life, but he'd also been made love to like he was the most precious thing Hunter had ever held in his two hands. Roman enjoyed both equally, and something told him he'd be getting a fair measure of both in the coming days.

"You meant what you said? About taking me away from everything?" he breathed against Hunter's nose.

"Yeah…" Hunter stroked a few strands of dark hair away from his face. "Nobody's gonna be bothering you for the next thirty days. Not the shitheads out there, not the press, not even the company…they wanna check on you, they can do it through me."

How Hunter could even begin to manage that, Roman didn't even know, and didn't need to. "Thank you…"

"I'm gonna make it all good for you, baby boy…" Hunter smiled, before pulling him closer and kissing him again.

Roman relaxed a little, the edge taken off his urgent need and the rush of sensation at being with Hunter again, and he felt himself melting a little more into Hunter's embrace, still perched quite comfortably on his lap and grinding slow. Hunter's hands were fondling his ass now, fingers splayed wide on either cheek, hard cock rubbing up against Roman through his expensive trousers.

"If we had time I'd have you right here in this limo, lay you down and get you all nice and wet for my cock…" Hunter whispered hotly in his ear. "…too bad we're almost at the apartment. Think you can hold out for a few more minutes?"

Roman nodded. "A few more—not too long,"

"Not too long," Hunter agreed.

Mercifully, they soon pulled up to a complex of new-looking apartments—not exactly luxury but definitely upscale, all sleek lines and grey slate accenting the walls. It was nearly sunset and there was a soft ocean breeze blowing in the summer air as Hunter led him to a private entrance, dragging his suitcase behind him.

Hunter's unit was on the seventh floor, with an open-plan living room that had been partially converted into a home office, floor-to-ceiling windows draped with off-white blinds. The decor was decidedly minimalist, unlike some of the garish hotel suites they'd stayed in during their time on the road. The master bedroom was airy and spacious, with an en suite bathroom complete with a large tub and shower. A room which Roman suspected was the second bedroom had been turned into a small gym—not with the complete set of equipment but enough to keep a man in shape.

"You can use that room as much as you want…figured you'd probably prefer not training in public places." Hunter said as he wheeled Roman's suitcase into the master bedroom. "Or you can go to the Performance Center—you still have your access card?"

"Yeah…" Roman said, fishing his wallet out of his pocket and laying it on the kitchen counter. "Always a good place to come back to."

"They'll be happy to let you train there—Matt knows to expect you in the coming weeks,"

Roman looked around the apartment some more—there were very few personal effects, not even a tasteful framed print or a shelf of books, a space that hadn't been _lived_ in as much as it had been used. Hunter's desk near the window was strewn with paperwork and folders, his laptop charging quietly with its top closed.

"You've been busy…" he said as he walked back to the kitchen, where Hunter was digging around the cupboards.

"The upcoming brand split's a lot to manage…" Hunter said as he produced two tall glasses. "Splitting the roster is one thing, but we're talking about splitting the staff, the stage crew, the trainers, the producers…and ironing out schedules with the arena people."

"I have enough of a headache keeping my rentals and hotel bookings in order," Roman shook his head as Hunter produced a carton of orange juice from the fridge, and proceeded to pour them each a glass. "Don't know how you keep yours straight."

"Mostly it's the paperwork that drives me nuts," Hunter said as he sipped his juice. "Plus the Cruiserweight Classic starts taping two days from now, so things are gonna get busy down there in Full Sail,"

"Sounds like fun," Roman said as he downed half his glass. "Been a long time since that division got any attention,"

"Not in our company, no…" Hunter said. "But they're popular the world over—it's a miracle we've been able to secure so many top names for the tournament."

Roman nodded, licking remnants of juice off his lips. "I think I need to use the shower…"

"Sure…" Hunter said. "We'll get dinner after, just take it easy…"

When Roman got to the bathroom he stared at his reflection long and hard in the mirror. His lips were a little swollen from the car ride here, eyes a little glazed and unfocused, and there was a flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather. Smiling quietly to himself, he peeled his clothes off and stepped into the shower booth, noticing that Hunter had stocked two bottles each of Roman's brand of shampoo and conditioner on the wall-mounted rack. Roman shook his head—the older man had clearly been planning for this, probably from the moment he first heard about Roman's possible suspension.

Not that Roman was complaining, not at all. This beats staying in his own half-furnished place in Pensacola for thirty days, stewing in his own frustrations, jerking off to bad porno he'd stream illegally and eating shitty takeout food. Here, he had a nice big bed to sleep in and a warm body to sleep next to, a place to exercise and keep in shape, and if his previous times with Hunter were any indication, his every conceivable need would be taken care of. Roman wasn't a fool, he wasn't going to say no to that. And if the 'price' he had to pay meant spreading his legs or giving up any other part of his body for use whenever Hunter wanted to, well…that wasn't exactly a loss on his part, either.

Exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around him, Roman found Hunter waiting in the bedroom for him. He'd taken his jacket and shoes off and had his sleeves rolled up, sitting at the edge of the bed with a knowing smile on his lips.

"I put most of your stuff in the wardrobe," he gestured towards the built-in units lining one side of the bedroom wall. "Looks like you've packed enough for the next few days, at least…after that, we'll just get you some new clothes."

"You gonna dress me up all pretty?" Roman said playfully as he stepped closer.

"Hmm…that's a thought," Hunter tugged him closer by his wrist, shaking the towel loose from his waist, letting it fall into a damp puddle on the carpet. "Right now I prefer you just like this, though."

Roman smiled and got on Hunter's lap again, flinging his arms around the older man's neck. Unhindered by clothing, Hunter's hands now roamed everywhere, stroking up and down his back, pinching playfully at his chest, sneaking fingers down between Roman's ass cheeks until Roman could feel the press of cold, slick digits against his hole. Hunter wasted no time fingering him open, his fingers coated generously with lube, eager but apparently mindful of the fact that it had been a long time since they'd last fucked.

"So tight…" Hunter muttered against Roman's ear. "You've been keeping this hole nice and clean for me, baby boy? Didn't let anyone else touch it?"

Roman shook his head, already close to coming undone by Hunter's fingers alone. "Nobody else…"

"You sure? I know you've had a lot of new friends come in since I've been gone, people who'd love to have a go at this ass of yours…"

"No…" Roman looked right into Hunter's eyes. "Never wanted anyone else, Daddy…"

Hunter's light brown irises flashed with something at those words, and soon Roman found himself flipped over onto his back, calves resting on Hunter's shoulders as the older man worked his trousers open with one hand, the other still three fingers deep inside Roman. Roman watched him through hazy eyes, rocking himself against Hunter's fingers slowly, delighting in the soft ripples of pleasure it produced up and down his body.

It was true, he hadn't let anyone fuck him other than Hunter—the thought had never even entered his mind. When Seth came back, him and Roman and Dean had ended up in a half-drunk heap in Seth's hotel room, giving each other messy handjobs half the night and snoring on each other's shoulders for the other half. Seth had given him a rather wonderful blowjob to wake him up the next morning, then Dean got pissy and wanted one too, and they almost didn't check out in time to get to the next town for RAW.

Roman loved having his two brothers with him like that, stupid and messy and reminding them of simpler times, but it was nothing like what Roman got from Hunter. Hunter could build entire worlds around him, flood his mind with imagery through words and the play of his hands, his voice the only thing cutting through the intoxicating haze in Roman's head and guiding him along as if on a leash. A leash Roman would follow anywhere.

"Tried doing this to myself…with my own fingers," Roman said as he pushed back against Hunter's digits. "Didn't feel the same…"

"I bet it didn't…" Hunter smirked as he twisted his fingers inside Roman, his other hand working his own cock with leftover slick. "You put anything else inside you while I was gone?"

Roman shook his head. "No…"

"God…your poor little hole must feel so neglected by now," Hunter withdrew his fingers and lowered himself onto one elbow, the other guiding his dick into Roman's hole. "So let's fix that, shall we?"

Roman gasped at the sensation of being penetrated, the shock of it both familiar and new, sense memories awakened with every inch that Hunter pushed into him. His mind flashed through those countless nights of being on his back just like this, or on his stomach, or sinking down on Hunter' lap with hands braced on some hotel room's fancy headboard, of curtains drawn tight to keep the outside world at bay and hurried breakfasts the morning after, chasing after the next taping, the next live show, the next press junket—the next opportunity to steal a few hours away.

Hunter exhaled when he was fully sheathed, stroking down Roman's right leg and kissing the inside of his knee. Roman reached up and undid the buttons of Hunter's shirt with his shaking fingers, trying not to yank too hard as Hunter started to thrust inside him. He pushed the fabric of the shirt aside and pressed his palms against Hunter's chest, feeling the drumming beat of his heart under the heat of his taut flesh. This was real, he told himself. This was real and Hunter was really here, big and warm and strong, just like how Roman remembered him.

Hunter let Roman's legs down so they could wrap loosely around his waist, allowing him to press down closer and tighter, mouth busy marking up Roman's neck with bruises they both knew wouldn't need covering up the next day. Roman ducked his hands under Hunter's shirt and clawed blunt fingernails down his back, bucking up to meet each hard thrust and gasping mouthfuls against Hunter's shoulder. He wouldn't last long—it's been too long and Hunter felt so good, so close and warm, his movements sharp and focused. Hunter grabbed Roman's face in both hands and kissed him fiercely, sucking the air right out of him as he sped up his thrusts. Roman reached down, finding his own dick already straining and swollen, ready to explode.

One of Hunter's hands joined him down there and together they stroked frantically, bringing Roman off in spectacular fashion and in record time. Roman could feel himself sputter and shoot, come plastering his chest and a little of it even getting on his chin. While he was still moaning and writhing in aftershocks he could faintly feel Hunter licking him up, lapping up the release on his sweaty flesh as he resumed thrusting. Roman's head felt fuzzy, his oversensitive nerve endings still sparking intermittently as Hunter continued fucking him, thick tongue dancing across his skin.

Hunter came with his mouth hovering over Roman's, shiny with spit and trails of Roman's own release on his lips. Roman pulled him down and kissed him, tasting himself even as Hunter shot his load inside him, feeling the hot drench of it, the ache of fullness that reached all the way to the base of his spine, the mess of fluids smearing their bodies. He needed another shower. He probably wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow. He couldn't care less.

Hunter released his mouth and breathed heavily against him for a few moments, still not pulling out despite his cock softening inside Roman. Blinking the haze away and stroking down Hunter's deeply-lined face, Roman bit his lips and waited.

"That…was just the beginning," Hunter said with a little smile. "I could do this all night."

"I was kinda hoping you would," Roman said.

"Now who's impatient?" Hunter smirked and kissed the bridge of Roman's nose. "Listen, I need to go out and get our dinner, but there's something I want you to do for me while you wait…"

"Oh..?"

"I want you to keep this sweet little hole wet and open for me, so I can slide right back in again…" Hunter said, punctuating his words with a short, shallow thrust. "You still remember how to do that?"

Roman shuddered, wetting his dry lips. "You…brought it with you?"

"It's right here…" Hunter reached over to the bedside table and rummaged for something in its drawer. "Just waiting for you."

Hunter hadn't used a lot of toys on him in the two years they'd been doing this, but there was one plug in particular in Hunter's little collection that Roman was fond of—black rubber, simple-shaped, no fancy ridges or electrics, just a big blunt end and a wide base that sat snugly against his hole whenever it was fully sheathed inside. Now Hunter was holding it inches from his face, rubbing the end of it against Roman's wet lips.

"Tell me again why you liked this one…"

Roman took the end of the plug inside his mouth, sucked on it wetly, then released it with an obscene pop. "Because it feels like you…"

"Damn right…" Hunter said as he drew back, rising up on his knees.

He withdrew his cock from Roman's hole and pressed the tip of the plug against it, pushing it inside the still-wet entrance slowly as Roman breathed, working his muscles to draw it in further. When it was snugly inside Hunter pressed at the base a few times, which did unspeakable things to Roman's prostate, causing his spent cock to twitch a little.

"Think you can be a good boy and wait for Daddy to come home?" Hunter teased a little with his fingers rubbing around Roman's rim.

"Uhh-huhh…" Roman nodded. "Just don't take too long."

Hunter smiled and kissed him one last time before getting off the bed. "Be back before you know it…"

Roman laid back on the bed as he heard Hunter leave the bedroom, and the faint sounds of the apartment doors opening and closing. The sun had fully set outside, the room bathed in the soft glow of two bedside lights with dimmer switches. Roman reached over to turn it down to the lowest setting, trying to limit his movements as much as possible. Then he flopped back onto his back, drawing his knees up to accommodate the strange but not unwelcome sensation of the plug inside him, every soft rub of it against his insides sending a ripple of pleasure through his body and to his cock. He probably wasn't going to get hard again so quickly, which was just as well since he didn't want to have to deal with the plug _and_ an erection while waiting for Hunter to come back. Thinking on the absurdity of his predicament, Roman had to laugh, staring up at the ceiling and shaking his head at himself.

 _What a difference a day makes…_

Fifteen minutes went by and Roman decided that he most certainly needed another shower, even if Hunter was just going to dirty him all up again when he got back. Standing under the warm spray felt nice, it gave him something to focus on other than the sensation of the plug pressing deep inside him, and the knowledge that it was keeping Hunter's come from dripping out. Roman soaped himself down thoroughly, washing the stickiness off his chest and thighs, but left his backside alone, afraid to dislodge or even disturb the plug.

Hunter had unpacked his suitcase and put his clothes into the wardrobe as he'd said, helpfully separating tops from bottoms and giving an entire drawer for his underwear. Roman decided against too many layers for now, slipping on one of his soft, sleep-worn t-shirts and a pair of grey sweatpants. He had a feeling he wouldn't be wearing them long anyway, he just needed something to cover up for decency's sake while they ate. He _was_ hungry, he hadn't eaten on the plane and his stomach was starting to rumble, he just hoped Hunter wasn't looking to do too much once dinner was over—Roman had a tendency to get all drowsy after he'd been fed. He was already starting to get drowsy _now_ , with all of the day's events catching up to his body.

Roman settled himself back on the bed, grabbing a pillow to rest his head on as he lay on his stomach. The bedding was softer here than any he'd laid on in fancy hotel suites, not too starched with overwashing, a faint scent of Hunter still remaining on the sheets, proof that this is where Hunter had slept last night. The thought made Roman smile as he drifted off, fingers drawing lazy circles on the pillowcase.

Roman woke slowly, tugged from sleep by a strange sensation in his lower body. At first he couldn't remember where he was, lying facedown on a bed wider than his own and softer than any hotel's, then he breathed in a familiar scent and everything came flooding back to him.

 _Daddy's home._

He lifted his head just enough to look over his shoulder and sure enough, Hunter was there, face hovering just above the small of Roman's back, one hand caressing his ass while the other worked between Roman's legs, pushing the plug deeper into his body. A bolt of pleasure shot right to Roman's dick, trapped between his body and the mattress, making him arch off the bed with a loud moan, pushing his ass back at Hunter eagerly.

"Someone's happy to see me back…" the older man said with a little smirk.

Roman had nothing to say at him, just offered a smile of his own and pushed back even further.

"I got dinner set up in the kitchen, but looks like it can wait a little bit…" Hunter said as he started to pull at the base of the plug to draw it out. "…something needs taking care of first."

Roman bit his lip as the plug was slowly eased out of him, knowing what was coming next. He spread his legs a little wider in anticipation, grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheets on either side of his head.

"Shit…would you look at that," Hunter said with awe in his voice. "Your pretty little pucker's just begging for me to get back in it."

Roman moaned into the pillowcase, every inch of him burning hot with need. He felt Hunter shuffling behind him and soon he was full again, this time with hard living flesh, sinking into him without any resistance. Hunter laid on top of him, weight pressing Roman even further into the bed, grabbing each of Roman's hands and lacing their fingers tight together. Roman felt Hunter's mouth on his neck and shoulders, nipping with teeth and flicking with tongue, breathing hot and heavy against his skin.

"Thought I'd never get to do this again…" Hunter muttered next to his ear. "…thought you didn't want Daddy anymore."

Roman shook his head weakly. "Never…I never stopped wanting you."

Hunter kept rocking into him slowly, nothing like the frantic pace of their earlier coupling. They were pressed so close, so close that Roman couldn't tell where he ended and Hunter began.

"You gonna be Daddy's boy for the next thirty days, baby? Gonna do whatever I want you to?"

Roman pressed a kiss to the knuckles of Hunter's left hand where it covered his own. "Yes, Daddy…"

Hunter placed his mouth against Roman's cheek, kissing him with tenderness that almost seemed out place. Roman shuddered, recalling that this is how Hunter had kissed him that first time, two years and a lifetime ago, slow and deliberate and comforting. Back then, Roman hadn't known what he was getting himself into, was drawn in by curiosity more than anything else, but now the feeling of belonging was so strong he almost didn't know what to do with it.

"I'm sorry I didn't…" he gasped, breath too short to even complete a sentence. "…didn't get back to you sooner…"

"Ssshh…it's okay," Hunter soothed him, still fucking him slow and sweet. "Daddy's not angry with you, baby…he's just glad to have you with him again."

Roman felt a sharp pang of relief at that, even though it was hardly an earth-shattering revelation. He turned his head, meeting Hunter's mouth with his own and sucking wetly at his lower lip. Hunter kept the pace slow, even as his hips stuttered and Roman knew he was getting close. Roman's own cock was rubbing against the mattress with each move Hunter made, wetting his stomach and the sheets with pre-come.

Hunter grunted low and harsh when he came, hands tightening around Roman's so hard he thought his fingers might break. Roman felt heat flooding him again for the second time that evening, Hunter's length pulsing as it shot inside him, a long and drawn-out sensation that vibrated through his whole body.

"Turn over…" Hunter said as he withdrew, releasing Roman's hands from his grips.

Roman did so slowly, feeling the pleasant ache in his bones as he moved to lie on his back. Before he knew it, Hunter had Roman's entire length in his mouth, swallowing him whole in one swift move. Roman gasped, feet digging into the mattress as he felt the older man's tongue work the sensitive underside of his cock, lips wrapped tight around him. Hunter didn't do this too often, but whenever he did Roman was invariably left a writhing mess, and this time was no exception. Hunter held his hips down as his mouth worked its magic, making heat pool in Roman's belly as his climax neared.

He wouldn't have needed much more to bring him off, but then Hunter snuck one long finger inside Roman's well-used hole and that was it, Roman was fucking _gone_ , coming hard and long into Hunter's mouth. He watched as Hunter swallowed, the edges of his vision blurring as blood pounded in his ears, each convulsion of his dick traveling all the way up and down his body.

Hunter licked him clean and crawled up the mattress, brown eyes soft as he kissed Roman again, spit and come mixing as their mouths tangled. Roman threw his arms around Hunter's back and pulled him down, wanting to relish every bit of the rare intimacy. There was something different here, something he couldn't put a name to, something that went beyond Hunter's usual playfulness and seemingly unquenchable desire. It threw him off a little, like a buoy rocked by strong waves, though a part of him wanted to drown in it completely.

"Dinner's getting cold…" Hunter said when he finally let go. "Come on…you must be starving by now."

Roman nodded and allowed himself to get pulled up off the bed, his legs wobbly as he followed Hunter out of the bedroom.

The small dining table was filed with takeout boxes emblazoned with some fancy Italian restaurant's logo, and Roman felt his stomach rumble as the scent of food wafted into his nostrils. He _was_ starving.

"You bought enough for five people," he noted with amusement as he sat down, wincing a little at the soreness in his backside.

"We'll save the leftovers for breakfast," Hunter said. "And who're you fucking kidding? You'd finish half of all this easily."

Roman grinned and started on the thin-crust pizza, grabbing a slice and biting it off nearly to the crust. Hunter chuckled and followed suit, and for a while they just ate in companionable silence, interrupted only by business calls Hunter had to take on his phone. Roman's own phone had gone mercifully silent since he'd arrived in Orlando, with no missed calls or messages. He briefly considered sending a message to Dean or Seth, but decided against it, wanting to enjoy the relative peace and quiet.

"What's tomorrow like?" he asked when they'd finished the first box of pizza and moved on to the risotto, which they ate straight out of the box with two spoons.

"There's a run-through for the Cruiserweight taping scheduled for the afternoon, but other than that I don't have any plans…" Hunter said. "Why, you got something in mind?"

Roman shrugged. "I don't know…be nice to sleep in for once."

Hunter seemed to consider his suggestion for a few moments, then smiled as he caught on. "Yeah…we've never really done that, have we?"

"No…" Roman said. "Always rushing to get to the next city, or the next show or whatever."

"Well, then…sleeping in it is." Hunter said. "I'll put it on my timetable."

Roman laughed, fighting not to choke on his mouthful of risotto. "You're ridiculous…"

"So I've been told…" Hunter said casually as he reached over and picked a bead of rice off Roman's beard. "And you're a messy eater."

"You like me messy," Roman said without thinking.

"I do, don't I?" Hunter agreed with a knowing smile.

The rest of the meal passed by in relative quiet, Hunter stashing the uneaten food into the fridge as Roman excused himself to use the bathroom again. Even something as mundane as taking a shower and brushing his teeth felt new and strange here, with the knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere, that he was here to _stay_. No rushing to check out, no rental car to stuff his gear into, no endless stretch of highway with Dean's off-key singing for hours on end to serenade him. He loved Dean to bits but this felt much, much nicer. Odd, but nice.

When he came out into the living area again Hunter was at his desk, face lit by the glow of his laptop. Roman watched him for a while, trying to quell the strange tug he felt inside his chest, watching the man he knew would someday take over the company being engrossed in his work. Hunter didn't need accolades or titles anymore—he was literally laying the future down for each and every one of them, Roman included, slow and excruciating work that often went unthanked. NXT was merely the tip of the iceberg as far as Hunter's ambitions were concerned, and Roman had to admire that.

Hunter saw him approach and beckoned him closer, patting his thigh. He pulled Roman down to sit across his lap and showed him the brackets for the Cruiserweight Classic on his laptop screen, some names Roman were familiar with and others he'd never heard of before.

"Wow…you actually got Ibushi?" he said as he peered at the screen.

"Not on a permanent basis, sadly…" Hunter sighed. "That's still being negotiated. But he'll add something special to the tournament for sure."

Hunter showed him a few more things—some preliminary designs for the UK Championship Belt, assessment videos for some of the Chinese talents he'd been scouting, plans for international tours and partnerships with other promotions. It was all fascinating, aspects of the business he didn't even know was going on outside his weekly circus of RAW and Smackdown, but Roman was beginning to drift off, barely able to stifle a yawn as he rested his head on Hunter's shoulder.

"You should go to sleep…" Hunter said softly against his ear. "Been a long day for you."

"Hmmm…" Roman shifted a little on his lap. "You still got a lot to do?"

"Just a few more e-mails and I should be done," Hunter said. "Go on…I'll be right there."

Roman's eyelids felt heavy as he made his way back to the bedroom, crawling back onto the bed and slipping under the covers. They'd have to change the sheets tomorrow, but for now he was happy enough to lie there and wait for Hunter, a novelty unto itself. All of this, all of this was new and unexplored territory, something he suspected other people whose relationships fell within the spectrum of so-called 'normal' would take for granted. Just the act of lying there, waiting for someone to come to bed, trying not to fall asleep as he heard Hunter make his way to the bathroom, the noise of the shower and the water running in the sink—little things life on the road had never allowed them time to indulge in.

 _Time_. Time was what this was all about, wasn't it?

Hunter got into the bed with him, tugging him close by the waist with one arm. Roman noted that he still kept the habit of positioning himself between Roman and the window, which sent something fluttering in his chest again. For once, he didn't dread the prospect of morning, of daylight turning the fortress around his mind into dust. The walls would still be there tomorrow, and so would Hunter.

It would only be thirty days.

It felt like all the time in the world.


	9. Suspension of Disbelief - 2016

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

 **Author's Note:** All right, I promised y'all a happier chapter for once, didn't I? Well, it seems that the 30 days of Roman's suspension is way too long for me to cover off in one chapter, so I guess that makes two happy chapters? Yay? Here's the first installment, with 7000+ words of Hunter being super duper extra with his whole Daddy thing and Roman…well, Roman's in for quite a ride. Enjoy!

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Even with his alarm turned off and the tantalizing prospect of a lazy morning spent lying in bed with Roman in his arms, Hunter's stubborn body clock roused him at six anyway, conditioned by years of routine and the demands of his job. He opened his eyes to find the bedroom cast in greyish light, and the sound of light rainfall splattering against the windows. An Orlando morning drizzle, the first of this summer—or at least, the first he'd been in town to wake up to.

Roman had curled away from him sometime during the night, taking up most of the blankets with him, hair fanning out in a cascade of dark curls over the pillows. Hunter sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, stretching and flexing his neck and shoulders. His phone lay on the bedside table, notification screen showing five unread e-mails and a few messages—nothing urgent. Droplets of water ran down the bedroom's tall windows, painting a hazy picture of the apartment's courtyard outside and the streets and sky beyond.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low hum that reverberated through the window's glass panes. Roman stirred slightly, turning his body as if seeking out the source of the noise. His eyes were still shut but he murmured something in his half-sleep, a hand reaching out weakly to the search the space beside him on the bed. Hunter caught it before it could fall on empty mattress, grasping Roman's fingers in his own.

"It's just the rain…" he said. "Go back to sleep."

"Why….why are you getting up?" Roman mumbled, eyelids opening just a sliver before falling shut again.

"I'm not…" Hunter assured him. "Promised you we'd sleep in, didn't I?"

Roman tugged at his hand petulantly. "Then come back here…"

Hunter smiled and allowed himself to get pulled back down, Roman burrowing close as soon as he was horizontal. Hunter watched him closely as the younger man rested his head on the broad expanse of Hunter's chest, taking in every feature visible in the still-weak light, from the flutter of Roman's lashes to the gentle slope of the nose Hunter had broken not too long ago. Roman's beard was growing out, the dark fuzz rubbing against Hunter's skin, but it did little to diminish the air of innocence he somehow still carried with him. His lips were hanging wet and half open, every exhale a soft puff that blew warmly against Hunter's face.

Twenty-four hours ago, Hunter couldn't even be sure of how this little plan of his would play out—bringing Roman here, offering him a place away from all the clamor and the noise for thirty days, an all-or-nothing play just to have the boy back with him again. Roman must have sensed it the moment he picked up the phone—he'd been with Hunter long enough to recognize underlying motives beneath all the gestures of affection and generosity, and Hunter would've admitted to them readily if it had been brought up. He'd sorely missed his boy—watching him on TV all these months had been a poor substitute for actually holding him close, breathing his scent or tasting mouthfuls of his flesh.

He'd had plans—oh dear Lord there'd been all kinds of plans, all the things he'd planned to do to Roman to make up for all that lost time, all the little games they could play, all the things he wanted to hear uttered from the boy's sweet, sinful mouth.

But then Roman had got into his limo, had climbed onto his lap and kissed him with all the naked desperation Hunter never even knew he was capable of, and all those plans had evaporated. Then all he could think of was holding his boy tight and never letting go again, heart thundering in his chest as the chorus of mine mine mine inside his head lost all of its edge and became equally desperate, almost pleading. Suddenly, Hunter didn't want to play games anymore. All he wanted was to keep holding on to Roman, lavish him with all the attention he could spare, build a fortress around him within the solid concrete walls of this barely-inhabited apartment in Orlando, as far away from the spotlight and scrutiny as possible.

I'm so fucked, Hunter thought to himself as he reached down and drew an index finger down the bridge of Roman's nose, dipping it into the gap between his slightly-parted lips. Roman suckled on it gently, more out of involuntary reflex than anything else since he was still pretty much dead to the world, the soft smacking noise of his lips sending ripples of heat down Hunter's spine.

Yep. So very, very fucked.

—

Three hours and twenty minutes later, it was Roman who had to get out of bed to empty his bladder, Hunter half-heartedly trying to stop him by holding onto an ankle.

"You're a kinky bastard, Helmsley…but I'm not ready to piss in your sheets just yet," Roman said as he wrenched his foot free.

Hunter laughed as Roman padded towards the bathroom, using the opportunity to steal back some of the covers that Roman had hogged last night. The rain had stopped, leaving the world outside a misty haze of sunshine and low clouds. He had five, maybe six hours before he had to go to Full Sail to oversee the run-through for tomorrow's Cruiserweight Classic taping, and he should probably get up and re-heat some of their dinner in the microwave or something, but Roman's enthusiasm for sleeping in was rubbing off on him.

Roman emerged from the bathroom and leapt straight back onto the bed, landing with a joyous little bounce and a barely-suppressed giggle, a noise that reverberated warmly through Hunter's body as Roman settled close to him once more, resting his head on Hunter's shoulder.

"Can't remember the last time I got to do that…" he sighed happily as he curled one arm loosely around Hunter's middle.

"You're right…this is nice," Hunter said.

"I do have good ideas from time to time…" Roman deadpanned, already close to drifting off again.

"Maybe you should make a list…" Hunter said, his nose brushing against Roman's forehead. "All the little things you never get to do on the road, random everyday shit that other people take for granted, and we'll see how many of them we can tick off."

Roman lifted his head slightly, dark brown eyes regarding Hunter. "S'funny…before I got here I thought maybe you would have a list."

Hunter had to smile at that, carding his fingers through Roman's hair, slightly tousled from sleep. Roman knew him so well. "You know what? I kinda did."

"And…?" Roman blinked at him curiously.

"And now I just wanna throw it out the window and start over," Hunter said as he fitted his palm against the side of Roman's cheek. "Fuck those plans. I wanna know what you wanna do for the next twenty-nine days,"

Roman grinned a little sheepishly. "That's a bad idea…you leave it up to me and I'll just end up slouching around like a lazy bastard, stinking up the joint, eating all your food and leeching off your wi-fi, getting all fat and ugly while I'm at it."

"Oh, I don't know about 'ugly'…." Hunter's other hand rubbed against Roman's belly, kneading handfuls of pliant flesh. "I still have some old pictures of you from the FCW archives, back when you still had more meat on these bones…"

Roman flushed at that, cringing at the mention of his earlier, chubbier form. "I looked ridiculous."

"You looked kinda cute, actually…" Hunter said, fondling a bit more of that soft skin to prove his point. "More for me to play with,"

Roman looked embarrassed but not uncomfortable, an awkward little laugh escaping him as he dug his nose against Hunter's collarbone. "Thought you liked your boys all small and dainty and pretty…"

"That what you used to tease Seth about?" Hunter patted his rump playfully.

"Dean used to tease him," Roman corrected. "Though Seth hardly fits the bill anymore—all muscled up and ready to tear the world a new one."

"Yeah, I saw…" Hunter said. "Well if you must know, I do like my boys pretty…but I like 'em happy, too."

Roman stopped squirming, letting out a soft little sigh against his chest. "Well, then…I guess I'm kind of…both right now."

Something warm spread quickly across Hunter's chest at those remarks, prompting him to pull Roman in for a kiss. There were a few seconds of morning breath to deal with but past that, it was all melting and warm and sweet, their lips smacking loudly in the quiet morning air. Roman seemed to expect things to escalate, weight already shifting back as if anticipating Hunter to move on top of him, but Hunter held him close and continued the languid kisses, hands never wandering further down than Roman's neck or shoulders.

"We…we just gonna do this all morning?" Roman asked breathlessly, lips tinged red and juicy and already a little swollen.

"Why not?" Hunter said nonchalantly, hoping it would mask the slight tremor in his voice as he took Roman's mouth with his again.

He felt Roman smile against him, heard the soft rumble of an appreciative noise from the boy's throat, a noise he could get used to hearing over and over again over the coming weeks.

"Yeah…" Roman whispered hotly against his lips between chasing for more kisses. "Why the fuck not?"

—

The leftovers ended up being eaten as lunch rather than breakfast, dumped onto plates Hunter somehow managed to produce out of his kitchen cabinets and heated in the microwave. He made them coffee with the expensive new coffeemaker he'd just gotten a few weeks ago, watching as Roman slowly and deliberately folded a piece of thin-crust pizza into the smallest little bundle he could manage, then proceeded to pop the whole thing rather unceremoniously into his mouth. There was something so lazy and childlike about his whole demeanor this morning, something Hunter had never witnessed on the road, what with their busy schedule and the demands of constantly being on the move.

He was on the phone with his NXT producers throughout most of the meal, talking logistics and scheduling all the while Roman sat across from him at the small dining table, still yawning every few minutes or so even as he sloppily ate through most of the leftovers, licking sauce off his fingers. The view outside was bright and sunny now, the tall windows behind Hunter's little office area letting the sunlight in without shattering their shared little world. Roman was relaxed, fed, and completely removed from the cares of his daily grind—and Hunter really, really didn't want to leave.

He got into the shower as soon as all the food had been eaten, letting the water run a little cold, determined to get himself in full working mode—he still had a job to do, and a damn important one, plus he had plenty of time to play with his boy again when he got back. Still, it didn't help that as soon as he emerged back into the bedroom he saw that Roman was on the bed once again, curled up on Hunter's side of the bed with a serene look on his face, hugging a pillow close. Hunter forced himself to look away and got dressed, picking out a dark grey suit and a matching tie, checking himself in the mirror all the while gazing at Roman's sleeping form reflected in it.

Once he was ready to go, he took one last glance at the boy and decided fuck it, before climbing onto the bed to drape himself over Roman's body.

"You're really taking this 'sleeping in' business seriously, aren't you?" he said with an amused little chuckle against Roman's ear.

"Mmm-hmmm…" was Roman's mumbled reply, his lips curling into a slight smile. "I'm allowed to, right?"

"Sure you are, baby…" Hunter said as he placed one hand over Roman's full, satisfied belly. "You're just making it real hard for Daddy to leave you and go to work, is all…"

Roman turned slightly and regarded him with sleepy eyes, fingers toying idly with the knot of Hunter's tie. "Then maybe Daddy should try to come home real quick so he can play with me some more…"

Jesus, don't tempt me like that.

"M'gonna try, okay?" Hunter said instead. "These things can either wrap up quickly or they can run till midnight, depending on how much they get right on the first go…"

"With you running the show? I'm guessing the latter…" Roman said with a knowing smile. "Always looking out for the smallest details, I swear I've seen you operate the lighting rigs yourself just to make sure the techs know their cue,"

"Someone's gotta do it…" Hunter shrugged and bent down to kiss Roman's forehead. "I'll bring dinner when I come back, okay?"

"Okay…" Roman said, the word tapering off into a yawn.

Hunter smiled and ruffled his hair slightly before slipping off the bed, turning the dimmer switch low as he did so. He took one last, long look at Roman and forced himself out the door to find his shoes and pack his briefcase, lest he linger too long and found himself truly unable to leave.

This was going to feel like one heck of a long afternoon.

—

It was seven in the evening when Hunter finally made it back to the apartment, dropped off by a company driver in just in front of the private entrance, laden with armfuls of takeout and a few shopping bags. Swiping his keycard and entering the apartment, he found it brightly lit and with a fresh, clean smell in the air. Roman was on the couch, reading a thick, rumpled paperback—and Hunter nearly dropped some of the stuff he was carrying when Roman looked up, his eyes framed by his reading glasses. Hunter had nearly forgotten about those, having only seen Roman wearing them in candid fan photos or during impromptu backstage briefings before he put his gear on. He looked somewhere between a postgraduate student and the world's hottest substitute teacher, and Hunter seriously wanted to skip dinner altogether and just get down to boning him, like right now.

"Hey…" Roman said as he set down his book and moved to help Hunter with his things. "Whatcha got there?"

"Chinese," Hunter blurted out, trying to distract himself by looking at the food he was setting out on the table. "I also got you some more clothes…it's mostly Tapout, but that's what they got down at the PC."

Roman chuckled as he saw the shopping bags. "So I get to stay on-brand even when I'm off TV, is that the idea?"

"Figured you'd be able to use them whether you're working out or just lounging around…" Hunter shrugged. "Oh, and I still wanna dress you up real nice…but that can wait."

I actually got time with you now.

Roman sniffed at one of the takeout boxes, seemed to decide that it was something he liked, and went to grab a pair of chopsticks from the plastic bag. They ended up eating in the living room area, watching a college football match on replay with the sort of detached half-interest that often accompanied a TV dinner, Roman stretched out on the floor with his back leaning against the couch and head just resting against Hunter's knee.

"How'd the run-through go?" Roman asked in between mouthfuls of fried noodles.

"Pretty tedious…" Hunter sighed. "Language still an issue with some of the foreign competitors—we're bringing in some extra runners from the Full Sail kids, give the producers more of a workforce for the actual taping."

"That's tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yeah…you wanna come along and watch? I can stash you in the production truck or somewhere else if you don't wanna hang around backstage…"

Roman seemed to consider this for a while, chewing his food slowly and deliberately, before finally shaking his head. "I'll just stay here and wait for you, if that's okay…"

Hunter swallowed his next bit of food with much difficulty, the thought of Roman just sitting patiently in the apartment waiting for his return doing something funny and unexpected inside his gut. "You sure? Could take a long while…definitely longer than I was gone today,"

"I can keep busy…" Roman assured him.

"Speaking of which, what did you get up to while I was gone?"

"Not much…" Roman shrugged, the movement rustling him against the fabric of Hunter's pants. "I changed the bedsheets. They were…getting kinda gross."

Hunter chuckled. "Yeah…how'd you find the spare ones?"

"Bottom drawer of the closet—that's where most people keep theirs, so I figured that's where they'd be," Roman said, popping a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken into his mouth. "Kinda tricky doing it on a bed that size on my own, but I managed…"

"I'll help you with them next time," Hunter promised.

We'll be going through a lot of bedsheets, I can guarantee you that.

"Then since I was already working up a sweat, I decided to get a bit of a workout…" Roman continued. "Seems like a good idea, seeing as how you keep stuffing me full of all this food."

"…among other things," Hunter couldn't help but say.

Roman shot him a dirty look, eyebrows arching over the rim of his glasses. "You are so fucking obvious sometimes…"

Hunter just grinned at him and continued eating.

"I did the dishes from this morning, too…" Roman said. "Couldn't just let them pile up in the sink."

"So that's what that smell was when I walked in…" Hunter said. "Looks like you had a productive day, after all…"

Roman rubbed his cheek lightly agains his knee, leaning some more of his weight on Hunter's leg. "I guess…"

The housework and subsequent workout had clearly put Roman onto a healthy appetite, and Hunter had to smile at the way he wolfed down the boxfuls of Chinese takeout with childlike glee. Watching him like this, it was almost impossible to believe that there were times when Roman couldn't eat at all, body heaving with nausea in response to some external stress, nights when Hunter had to literally feed him the tiniest morsels bit by bit, coaxing his mouth open and watching warily for any signs that he might throw up.

He wouldn't mind doing some hand-feeding on his boy again sometime soon—this time for the sheer pleasure of it.

Roman finished his second box and let out loud burp, belatedly trying to stifle it with the back of his hand. "Sorry…" he muttered a little sheepishly.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Hunter set his own box down on the coffee table. Roman proceeded to lick his fingers with a contented sigh, glasses riding slightly up his nose. "Something wrong with your contacts?"

Roman looked up at him. "I forgot to pack my clear ones, and only had those damn grey ones they make me wear when I wrestle."

"We could get you some clear ones, if you want…"

"It's fine, it'd be silly to pop them on just to read a damn book," Roman said. "Think they'll let me just stick to the clear ones from here on out?"

"Why not?" Hunter said as he brushed two fingers across Roman's forehead. "I like your real eyes better, anyway…"

Roman smiled up at him, the flesh around his eyes crinkling as they tended to do whenever he was genuinely happy about something, and Hunter just couldn't take it anymore.

"You still hungry? Think you have room in there for something more?" he asked none-too-subtly as he leaned back on the couch, letting his legs fall open slightly.

Roman's smile widened into a grin as he crawled into the space between Hunter's legs, kneeling on the carpet as he reached up to undo the older man's belt. His fingers made quick work of the buckle and the buttons on Hunter's pants, pulling out Hunter's cock and massaging it to full hardness between his hands.

"Daddy's been working hard…" Roman said in a low, sultry voice, which made something rumble deep in Hunter's chest.

"Yeah, because Daddy's got a little slut waiting for him at home that he's gotta feed and take care of," Hunter said as he reached down to caress Roman's cheek. "Keep those glasses on, baby boy…"

Roman had the audacity to throw him a wink before wrapping those pouty, still-greasy lips around Hunter's cock and sinking almost all the way down, letting out a small noise of pleasure which Hunter echoed. He hadn't been in Roman's mouth for so long it was almost painful, the velvet sin of his tongue lapping and flicking playfully at the underside while his cheeks pouted and hollowed in full-force sucking, one of the little things he did that he knew drove Hunter crazy.

"Jesus, baby boy…if I knew you were this hungry for it I'd have fed it to you first before anything else…" he said with a smirk, hands cupping Roman's face and thumbs rubbing circles down his jaw. Roman's only response was to suck him harder, every swipe of his tongue becoming long and deliberate, hands sneaking down presumably to pull out his own erection.

"Don't bring yoursel off, baby…Daddy'll take care of it. If you can be good boy and swallow everything, that is…." Hunter told him. Not that Roman ever had any trouble swallowing, or being a good boy for that matter, but Hunter knew how his words affected Roman sometimes, how it pushed buttons in his mind that drove him further and further into that hazy, comforting space which allowed him complete surrender.

Roman looked up at him, eyes wide and dark and pretty, framed perfectly by the rim of his glasses as he took Hunter down to the hilt, throat convulsing with the effort. His lips were stretched wide around Hunter's girth, his breathing ragged, and tears were starting to prickle at the corners of those glassy brown eyes. Roman loved doing this, pushing himself to the limit and then past it, pulling back only to try again. It scared Hunter sometimes but he knew the boy needed it, needed to wear himself down until he was threadbare, push away any notion of the stoic, aloof strongman the business had asked him to portray.

"Easy there, Champ…we got all night," Hunter reminded him.

Roman nodded but didn't let up his pace, probably chasing after his promised reward. Which was just as well because Hunter couldn't hold on for much longer either, his balls were starting to tighten with the telltale signs of impending orgasm, and he held the base of his cock to steady himself. Roman recognized the signs too, sucking hard and long and maximizing contact with the fleshy parts of his mouth, before drawing back until only the head of Hunter's cock rested in his mouth. Hunter's other hand reached for the back of Roman's head and held him in place, more out of habit than any need to stop him from getting away—Roman wasn't going anywhere.

His climax hit quickly, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside the boy's wet mouth, Roman's eyes fluttering shut as he concentrated on keeping his lips tight around Hunter so as to not let anything leak out. Hunter waited out the aftershocks with his fingers tangled in Roman's hair, before pulling back and letting his softening cock slide out. Briefly he glimpsed the copious white fluid inside Roman's mouth before the boy leaned back and swallowed, throat convulsing once, twice, eyes going misty as he let his tongue out to lick his lips. Hunter had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Did you get it all?" Hunter asked through his own ragged breathing, like a teacher quizzing a pupil.

"Yes, Daddy…" Roman said, and his voice was fucking wrecked, which would've sent Hunter straight into full hardness again if he hadn't just come.

"Then come up here and let Daddy reward you…" Hunter patted his thigh.

Roman didn't need to be told twice—he moved to sit across Hunter's lap, flinging his arms around the older man's neck as Hunter reached down and pulled his aching cock out of the waistband of his boxers. He let out a soft, appreciative noise and threw his head back as he was stroked slowly, achingly, Hunter's other arm wrapped around his back.

"My beautiful, slutty boy…" Hunter hummed as he nosed up and down Roman's neck, hand working Roman's cock steadily. "I could get used to coming home to you all the time, you know…"

Roman squirmed on his lap, choking out something unintelligible as Hunter's hand started to pump him faster.

If Roman had been naked, Hunter's mouth would be feasting on him right now, marking his shoulders and collarbone with hickeys, sucking greedily at those dark, peaked nipples that were visibly hard under the fabric of his t-shirt. As it were, Hunter was content to just breathe in the faint scent of shower gel and shampoo that still lingered on Roman's body, musky sweat starting to come through with the heat of their physical contact. He let his teeth graze the base of Roman's neck where his tattoo was visible, and tightened his hand around Roman's dick, jerking him off hard and fast.

"Ahh….fuck, Daddy!" Roman gasped, hips bucking up as he fucked into Hunter's fist.

"Come on, baby boy…come on, show Daddy what a good slut you are, come on…"

Roman moaned aloud and came, his release coating Hunter's hand and his own thighs, gasping for breath as he rocked himself on Hunter's lap, the grinding movement of his body almost enough to get Hunter hard again. He was so beautiful like this, completely lost in his own pleasure, a sight Hunter could never get tired of. He kissed his way up Roman's neck, to his jaw, and finally to his mouth, tasting the remnants of his own come on Roman's trembling lips. His sticky fingers soon joined the fray, feeding Roman his own come and letting the boy lick them clean as he kissed the corners of Roman's mouth. It was all so messy, so fucking filthy, and so very good.

They stayed like that for a good long while, Hunter leaning back to let the couch take on some of Roman's weight, trading languid kisses that slowly tapered off as Roman's breathing steadied, hands tracing the scruff of Hunter's beard. His eyes were hazy behind his glasses, and Hunter was already thinking of how he was definitely going to get Roman a new pair, something nice with gold rims that would make those beautiful eyes pop.

"You…uh, you don't happen to have spare coverings for the couch do you?" Roman muttered breathily against his jaw.

Hunter laughed and smacked him playfully on the thigh.

—

It rained again the following night, a full-blown thunderstorm that sent the trees in the courtyard swaying, and Roman was on the bed alone, phone lying beside him and still open on the text message from Hunter which informed him that the CWC taping was running late, that he didn't have to wait for Hunter to come home. That was two hours ago, and Roman was drifting in the uneasy space between restless and sleepy—earlier he'd made himself a passable sandwich from stuff he'd scrounged out of Hunter's fridge and kitchen cabinets, then watched a couple of documentaries on Netflix at least halfway before losing interest, but now he just longed to hear the apartment door open, to know that Hunter was back.

It was only the third night, but time had a funny way of passing when your entire world revolved around a fixed physical space and the rest of the world passing outside like mere scenery, day melting into afternoon and then evening into night at the pace of molasses. In between using the makeshift gym, familiarizing himself with the apartment some more and doing mundane household things like taking out laundry and cleaning up after their meals, Roman felt like he existed in some sort of weird time loop, the difference between days marked only by the different colors of Hunter's shirt as he walked out the door, or the food he would bring when he came home.

Hunter had gone out earlier this morning while Roman was still asleep, returning with a box of freshly-baked croissants and cinnamon rolls so sticky and sweet Roman was convinced they were enough to earn him another wellness policy violation. They ate most of it at Hunter's desk, Hunter finishing up some paperwork with Roman perched on his new semi-permanent residence on Hunter's lap. He found it both indulgent and comforting, allowing him to pick crumbs off the older man's beard and kiss the sticky cinnamon residue off his lips even as Hunter talked to one of his production staff on the phone. Hunter seemed to love having him there just as much, swiveling his office chair around and giving Roman that lopsided smirk of his.

Roman smiled at the memory, breathing lungfuls of trace scent from Hunter's side of the bed, eyelids starting to droop. These past few days had been a wash of something new and pleasant, something life on the road had never afforded them. And Hunter had been unequivocally sweet and tender with him throughout, even when they were a tangle of sweaty limbs and grunting breaths, his playfulness never straying into that murky darkness he'd often tapped into in the past. Roman knew he was merely playing off whatever vibes Roman was giving him, tuning his treatment to suit his mood, and he was glad for once to just enjoy himself, no post-match adrenaline to work through and no lingering emotional baggage he wanted to bury under the scratch of nails or bruising fingers.

Twenty-seven more days to go.

Time was passing so imperceptibly slowly and yet already Roman was starting to feel anxious about this little seclusion coming to an end. He wasn't dreading returning to action, far from it, the itch to go out there and pound the mat was always present under his skin, but this odd bubble of domesticity Hunter had created around him was so welcoming it almost made him feel like the world outside didn't exist anymore.

I could get used to coming home to you all the time…

Those words echoed in Roman's head as he fell asleep, serenaded by the rain and the rumble of thunder outside.

—

He woke with a start, groggy and blinking at the strange play of white lights, his brain taking a good while to process that it was lightning flashing outside. The rain was lashing against the window now, drenching everything in a blur, and the air felt thick and muggy. Roman wiped the sweat that was starting to gather at his neck, feeling uncomfortably hot under the thick blankets that had felt so nice and warm just hours before.

He was reaching over for his phone to check the time when an arm wrapped around his torso and pulled him close against a warm, wide chest, causing him to gasp. He hadn't even realized Hunter was on the bed with him — he must have gotten home after Roman had fallen asleep and didn't wake him up.

Roman turned, just about to ask Hunter what time he got back when an index finger was pressed against his lips, silencing him, accompanied by the softest, barely audible shushing noise close to his ear. Roman nodded, a little curious as to what little game Hunter was playing this time, blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The bedside lights were off and the lightning outside made it difficult to focus, but Roman could feel Hunter out with his hands and feet. Hunter was still in his shirt and pants—he must have come home too tired to even change into something more comfortable, and Roman stroked down his back comfortingly.

There was tension in Hunter's shoulders, which Roman could feel as the older man moved on top of him, searching his mouth out for a kiss. He wrapped his arms tight around Hunter's back and welcomed the kiss, trying to get a feel for what Hunter wanted from him. Without words, without commands, he felt a little lost—wondering if he was doing the right thing. Hunter didn't seem too bothered, though—just kept kissing him and grinding down on him, the space between Roman's open legs quickly filling up with friction and heat.

From there it was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and fishing one-handed for the lube stashed in the drawers, and still Hunter didn't say a word. Roman tried to look into his eyes but found it hard in the darkness and intermittent flashes of lightning, what little he could see of Hunter's expression looking tired and a little frayed. He offered silent comfort with his touches, stroking down Hunter's deeply-lined face and kissing his jaw as Hunter worked him open with fingers, trying to communicate that whatever Hunter needed from him, he could have it.

The sex itself was slow and labored, Hunter refusing to throw back the covers, making the air between them so thick and close Roman found it almost hard to breathe. Everything was reduced to touch and taste and smell, his sight hindered by the darkness and words held back between his lips. It heightened the sensations somehow, the wet glide of Hunter inside him, the beads of sweat on their foreheads, the bristle of Hunter's beard along his collarbone as he nipped down Roman's chest. Roman lost himself in the sensations, eyes shut tight as Hunter thrust deep into him, hands bracketing Roman's head on the sweat-damp pillowcase. He wasn't his usual precise, methodical self—everything felt loose and raw, his rhythm erratic, and Roman clung to him through it all, fingers laced at the back of Hunter's neck.

When he was finished Hunter stayed for long moments with his nose buried in Roman's hair, panting and dripping with sweat. Roman winced when he pulled out a little roughly but was quickly gathered into Hunter's arms as he laid them on their sides, still holding Roman as close as their bodies would allow. Roman went with it, unease still heavy in his chest—Hunter had never been like this, never felt like he was in any less than one hundred percent control of everything, especially with him, yet the man who'd just fucked him had felt tired, unsure…even a little desperate.

He was starting to wonder if it had all been a strange fever dream when Hunter's hand cupped his face and turned him to look him in the eyes, and he found himself staring into clear brown eyes that were lucid but weary, the lines on his face seeming to deepen even further.

"Is…is something wrong?" he asked, voice rasping over his dry throat.

Hunter shook his head. "M'just tired…"

He proceeded to tell the story of how the taping had run long but relatively okay, and how the storm had rolled in and held some people up at the studio. And then they'd gone almost immediately into post-production, reviewing footage and sound clips, and Hunter had stayed late to ensure everyone had means of getting home safely, especially the Full Sail interns, skipping dinner and having only a bottle of water and some backstage snacks to sustain himself.

"Should've stopped to eat something…" Roman said as he rubbed down Hunter's neck, easing some of the knots of tension there. "There's places open 24 hours downtown,"

"No…" Hunter shook his head slowly. "Wanted to get back to you,"

Roman closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. He pressed himself closer to Hunter's chest, ignoring the sweat and the sticky mess between them. "I'm not going anywhere…"

"Glad to know…" Hunter said, and he sounded like he meant every word.

—

On the fifth day Roman caught the sniffles, possibly brought on by getting rained on when he went for a jog around the apartment complex the previous morning. It wasn't anything serious, and Roman's pretty sure he's wrestled through worse illnesses before, but Hunter seemed to use it as an excuse to spoil him even more and treat him like an absolute baby, fussing over him and checking his temperature every few hours—which to be frank, Roman didn't mind all that much.

It happened over the weekend, their first together, which also meant that Hunter didn't have to take so many conference calls from Stamford or had meetings scheduled at Full Sail. For Roman it was a novelty, too—his weekends were normally a blur of house shows, fan meetups, or else gearing up for a Pay-Per-View. Now he was spending a Saturday afternoon in a heap of blankets on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television with a tissue box on his lap, while Hunter clattered about the kitchen.

Roman had absolutely refused to take any kind of medication, so Hunter had gone out to the supermarket earlier and promised to fix him up with something else, which he was evidently preparing now. With his nose clogged Roman couldn't smell what Hunter was concocting, only that involved some pots and pans and a fair bit of chopping.

Finally, Hunter presented him with a mug of something steaming and savory, which Roman sipped quietly as Hunter sat beside him, clearing strands of frizzled hair from his forehead. His taste buds out of whack, Roman couldn't quite identify the strong and pungent taste, only that it radiated warmth from the roof of his mouth all the way down to his stomach.

"So…what is this?"

"Chicken broth with ginger and garlic," Hunter said. "When we were scouting in China last year I caught a pretty mean cold too, and one of the liaisons we had in Guangzhou made this for me, said it works wonders for flu and fever and the like…"

"Hmmm…" Roman said as he sipped some more. "Tastes better than NyQuil, anyhow…"

"Worked for me…." Hunter said as he wrapped an arm around Roman's shoulder. "Only side effect is garlic breath."

Roman snorted into the mug, letting some of the aromatic steam waft up his nostrils. "I'll be sure to brush my teeth, then…"

The rest of the evening passed by quietly, Roman finishing the rest of the pot for dinner, nestled against Hunter on the couch as they watched a rough edit of the CWC premiere episode the production office had sent to Hunter earlier. Roman was in awe of the sheer athleticism on display, the high-flying moves from some competitors he'd never even heard of before, marveling at how he could be in the same business as these people and yet they were doing such starkly different things.

"They're fucking amazing…" he remarked at a slow-motion replay of a rather spectacular corkcscrew moonsault.

"Aren't they?" Hunter said with not a small hint of pride. "We're gonna build an entire division around these guys, get them their own slot in the programming."

"That's cool," Roman said. "Must be a headache to organize, though…"

"Between this and the brand split, I feel like there's not enough hours in the day…" Hunter sighed heavily. "You think you've finished ironing out one kink, something else pops up that threatens to throw a spanner in the works."

Roman traced a finger down Hunter's chest, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. "You…uh, any chance you can tell me where I'll end up in the brand split?"

"Jesus, are you fucking kidding?" Hunter said. "Of course you'll be on RAW, no way Vince's gonna let you go to what he views as the 'secondary' brand,"

Roman winced a little. "That's not fair, is it?"

"Vince is a lot of things, but 'fair' is hardly one of them…" Hunter said. "Things are changing, but slowly. Too slowly, for my liking."

Roman's hand reached up to Hunter's neck, feeling the coil of muscles there. "It's true, isn't it…what everyone's saying? That someday it'll be you controlling everything?"

"Yeah…" Hunter said matter-of-factly. "Scares you, doesn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Roman said as he looked up at Hunter. "I think you'll do just fine."

Hunter smiled and kissed his sweaty forehead gently. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

That night Roman found himself curled up in bed with a thermometer in his mouth and his head pressed against Hunter's left hip, the older man sitting propped up against the headboard with his laptop across his thighs, typing away at some complicated spreadsheet that Roman didn't quite understand, changing tabs occasionally to respond to an e-mail or two. The room was dark except for the bedside lamp on Hunter's side and the glow of his computer screen, which he'd thoughtfully dimmed down so as not to hurt Roman's eyes too much.

Once the thermometer beeped Hunter plucked it out of his mouth without looking, bringing it close to his eyes to inspect the digits. "Ninety-nine…you're certainly on the mend," he commented before putting the thermometer aside.

"I've been well looked-after," Roman muttered sleepily.

Hunter chuckled as his left hand drifted to Roman's head and stroked through his hair, fingers brushing across his cheek.

"If the weather's nice tomorrow let's have breakfast at this little place I know not far from here, yeah? It's small, fairly private…plus you could do with a bit of fresh air."

"Hmmm…." Roman said as he nestled deeper into the blankets. "Sounds nice."

"You're not bored with me yet, are you?" Hunter asked playfully as he palmed Roman's cheek.

"Far from it…" Roman said, turning his head to kiss the heel of the older man's palm. "This is jut fine…"

He meant to say, I don't want this to ever end.

"You don't have to wait for me to finish," Hunter said. "Go to sleep, I'll be five more minutes or so."

"S'ok…" Roman said, even if he was admittedly feeling a little drowsy.

When Hunter finally did put his laptop away and turn off his bedside lamp, Roman was already halfway asleep, but still awake enough to feel Hunter settle into the covers next to him, reaching over to pull the blankets higher over Roman's shoulders, whispering "good night, baby boy" before going silent.

—

On the seventh day, Roman was well enough again to do some light workout on the treadmill, Hunter warning him to go easy on himself before he walked out the door to do another round of meetings and oversee an NXT taping. Roman gave him an affirmative thumbs-up, slipping his headphones back on as he ran to the steady beat of a playlist Seth had made for him years ago, mercifully devoid of overly throaty vocals and screeching guitar riffs.

Seth had messaged him the day before, telling him to 'enjoy his break' and to 'stay out of trouble', which was rich coming from a man whose dick had been splashed all over the internet just a little over a year ago. Roman had sent him a short reply, without disclosing his whereabouts or what he'd been up to. He'd have told him if he'd been asked, but Seth hadn't asked, so.

Dean hadn't bothered him at all except for a short call on the first day, cussing the whole suspension thing out as bullshit and promising to keep the belt warm until he and Roman could have a healthy tussle over it again at Battleground. Since then, Roman hadn't exchanged any words with the reigning Champion, which was probably just as well since he couldn't predict how Dean would react to Roman's little Hunter-imposed seclusion.

The months he'd been away from Hunter, Dean seemed to have been somewhat relieved, believing that Roman was 'over it', that he'd moved on the same way Seth had years earlier. That Seth had 'moved on' to someone like Randy Orton, whom Dean liked even less than he did The Game, seemed a moot point. Roman knew his best friend was worried about him at times, and Roman had given him plenty of reason for concern, but he also appreciated that Dean never tried to tell him what to do or judged him for his choices, expressing his dismay only in barely-concealed scowls whenever Roman walked into their shared hotel room laden with fresh bruises, his voice raw from being facefucked within an inch of his life.

But Roman hadn't been 'over it' by any means—he'd simply been diverting his thoughts elsewhere, to his Championship reign, to the matches he was putting on, the program he had going on with Styles, which he'd enjoyed immensely. Hunter was always there somewhere, lingering in the back of his head, waiting patiently on the sidelines until he could surge back into prominence. And once he did, Roman could barely think of anything else. His whole world, it seemed, was Hunter.

There was a part of him still that believed that this place, this whole apartment, was just another elaborate stage set for one of Hunter's endless mind games, this time taking the form of a weirdly long, drawn-out play of domesticity and security.

He had a growing sense that it wasn't, though. Whatever this was, it was something genuine and new. And Roman didn't quite know how to deal with that.

He could deal with their little games, the clear rules that were always set out in the beginning, the interplay of control and dominance and submission that allowed him to let go completely. He'd always counted on Hunter knowing all the steps and the moves, knowing all the right words to say, to dictate how everything went from start to finish. But the more he stayed with him, the more Roman had a sense that Hunter was taking this just as day-by-day as he was, that there was no overarching game plan in place, that what they were doing was simply living together, as strange as that sounded, and it sat uneasily in his gut despite the pleasantness of the whole experience.

The more time passed and the easier Hunter became around him, showing him affection and buying him food and clothes and fancy desserts without even demanding anything in return, the less grounded Roman felt. He fought not to let it show, going along with anything Hunter wanted to do—which often meant little more than a whole morning spent making out or an evening on the couch watching football games and letting Roman massage the knots in his shoulder from being hunched over his desk.

Those weren't the kinds of things that fuckbuddies did, or friends-with-benefits did.

Those weren't the kinds things that two people who only got together after TV tapings in hotel rooms or arena showers did.

Those were things that people who were in honest-to-fucking-Jesus relationships did, and the realization had hit Roman with the force of a flying headbutt from the top ropes.

Roman didn't know what scared him the most—the sheer ease at which they were going about being with each other, or the fact that he wanted it so, so much. That he was starting to dread not having it anymore when their time was up. Would they go back to their old habits, Hunter stalking after him backstage, stealing him away to some fancy hotel and banging him through the floor before they would say goodbye in the morning?

A few months ago, he would've been satisfied with just that, wouldn't have dreamed of ever having anything more. But now he was being given everything, all at once, and it was overwhelming. And suddenly the prospect of just being another one in Hunter's roster of easily accessible bedwarmers, of being interchangeable with anybody else, made him sick to his stomach.

Still, he didn't want to seem ungrateful, nor did he want to shatter the illusion he knew Hunter had put a lot of effort into building around them, so he kept all of this to himself. Even as their clothes started to get mixed up in the bedroom closet, even as he started using Hunter's toothpaste when his own ran out, even as Hunter didn't even seem to think twice anymore about kissing him goodbye every time he walked out the door.

Twenty-three days to go.

Roman dialed up the treadmill and ran himself ragged, nearly collapsing in exhaustion in the shower later. Hunter was mildly upset with him when he came back to find Roman curled up in bed with a throbbing headache, but he brought him a bowl of soup to eat and spooned up behind him afterwards anyway, petting his hair and telling him he had to take better care of himself when Daddy wasn't home.

Roman nodded and fell asleep, repeating the words 'Daddy' and 'home' inside his mind over and over until they all but merged into one.

—

On the eleventh day, Hunter left their bed early to take a phone call out in the living room, Roman listening sleepily to muffled words as he traced his hand along the still-warm patch on the bed next to him. They'd been having a pretty chill weekend, all things considered, fucking on the couch after dinner and watching some of Hunter's old matches on the Network, Roman settling for some Attitude Era classics since Hunter had absolutely refused to let Roman watch any of the WCW stuff in his presence. There were still plenty for him to make fun of, from the denim jackets to the ponytail, not to mention the DX reboot that Hunter was still adamant wasn't as bad an idea as some people made it out to be.

When Hunter came back to the bedroom, his expression instantly told Roman something wasn't quite right.

"What is it?"

Hunter shook his head and got back on the bed, drawing Roman close to him before he spoke.

"I need to go to Headquarters,"

Roman's eyes widened as his stomach sank. "Stamford?"

Hunter nodded. "Shareholder meeting—and some planning for the months ahead. Vince called for it suddenly,"

"An emergency?"

"No…this happens from time to time," Hunter said. "It'll be two, maybe three nights."

Roman bit his bottom lip anxiously. "When…when do you leave?"

"Taking the company plane this afternoon," Hunter said with a heavy sigh. "Listen…you can stay here, of course…I'll leave you some money to get food or whatever, and you can use my driver to get around, but…I kinda want you to come with me."

"I…what would I do there?"

"Nothing," Hunter said as he stroked down Roman's face. "You don't even have to come near HQ if you don't want—nobody needs to even know you're there. I'll find you a nice hotel nearby, nothing too fancy, and you can just chill out or whatever."

Roman looked aorund the room, at the place he'd been calling home for nearly two weeks now. It would've made perfect sense for him to stay, look after the place, keep up with his workout regime and not have to subject himself prematurely to the pains of air travel and staying in hotel rooms until he absolutely had to. But staying would've meant being without Hunter, for days, and Roman couldn't quite accept that. Time was already starting to go by too quickly for his liking, a contrast to the dreamlike slowness of the first few days, and the thought of spending three nights alone in a bed he'd always shared with Hunter made him shudder with dread.

"It's your choice, baby…" Hunter said softly against his face. "I won't make you come with me if you don't want to."

Roman swallowed hard and looked up at the older man. "I'll go with you,"

Hunter's eyes brightened at that, though he visibly fought to keep it off his face. "Really? You sure?"

"Yeah…" Roman nodded. "Change of scenery, and all that."

They both knew that had nothing to do with it, but Hunter let it slide with a quiet kiss to his forehead. "Then I guess we should get packing, huh?"


	10. Gentlemen's Agreement - 2016

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

.

.

.

Whoever had the bright idea of holding a board meeting at eight-thirty in the morning ought to be taken out back and piledriven through a dumpster.

Hunter stared at his distorted reflection in the coffee urn as he poured his second cup of the day, already missing his espresso machine back in Orlando. The lounge adjoining the main conference room was slowly filling up with loose clusters of shareholders, boardmembers, and representatives from upper management and production, but Hunter was in no mood to make small talk—he'd barely slept the night before and he didn't quite know yet what to expect from the meeting today.

"Go easy on the caf, sweetie…" a familiar voice said from behind him. "Wouldn't want you to get a heart murmur before we even wrap up the first session…"

Hunter smiled as he sipped at the frothy black liquid, turning around to face his wife. Stephanie was in one of her no-nonsense business suits, hair falling loose around her shoulders, the golden drop earrings he'd bought her for their tenth anniversary adorning each side of her face.

"Didn't sleep well last night," he reasoned. "Wanted to make sure I came prepared."

That was only half the truth—Hunter _had_ been working on a presentation on the current projects within talent development, but he'd finished it up by the time they landed in Connecticut. What kept him up for most of the night was Roman, who slept fitfully and kept twisting and turning next to him, on a bed that while large enough to accommodate them was still decidedly smaller and less comfortable than the one they'd been sharing in Orlando for the better part of two weeks.

It had taken Hunter's arm around him and the press of a warm, familiar body behind his back to finally get Roman to calm down enough to sleep in earnest, Hunter's hand petting gently at his stomach as the bedside clock ticked over to 3 a.m.

"I like this new scruff," Stephanie said as she kissed his cheek and the growing beard Hunter hadn't bothered to shave for weeks. "Looks good on you."

"Just skirting the limits of business appropriate, don't you think?"

She nudged his shoulder lightly with hers. "You always did like to live a little bit on the edge, babe…"

Roman's beard had been growing out too, to the point where Hunter had rather bluntly offered to shave it for him. The boy's response was that the beard was staying until he got back in the ring, but that Hunter was welcome to shave any other part of him he wanted. That ultimately led to three nights ago, when Hunter had made Roman bend over the bathroom counter and took a razor to his backside, shaving him so carefully and meticulously until he was as smooth and bare as a newborn baby. Then he'd thrown Roman flat on his back on their bed, pulled his legs apart and eaten him out until Roman came twice screaming his name and his thighs were red and raw with beardburn.

 _Fuck this meeting. Fuck the board. Fuck Vince and his agendas._

"You have any clue what all this is about?"

She shrugged. "You know how Dad gets…but judging by the people he's called in I'm betting it has something to do with the brand split."

"I thought we'd settled the roster issue last week," Hunter said with a heavy sigh.

"Not until he signs off on the final list," she reminded him. "Just…be ready for anything, okay, babe?"

He looked at her grimly. "I don't like the sound of that,"

Patting his arm gently, she led him towards the door to the conference room. "Put your game face on, Hunter…could be one of those days."

—

It turned out to be one of those days and then _some_.

By the time the meeting was adjourned for lunch, Hunter felt like he had a few veins ready to pop and his hands hurt from gripping his armrests to stop him from making one ill-advised argument too many. All through it, Steph kept shooting him wary glances, a mixture of sympathy and warning, but all things considered he'd managed to keep his composure quite well.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the unappetizing spread laid out on the buffet in the lounge, Hunter decided to park himself in a corner of the room instead, nursing a bottle of sparkling water and staring out the window with his forehead pressed against the glass.

"You should eat something…" Steph said as she approached him from behind. "Gotta have some energy if you wanna win back some ground in the next session."

"Is there any ground for me to win back?" he retorted. "I just lost the top half of my NXT roster, Steph…he's pretty much stripped me bare. I'm gonna have to build everything from the ground up again."

"Which we know you _can_ do," she said as she sidled up next to him, linking an arm around his waist. "You've got a great talent pool going down there, the scouts have done their work."

He sighed deeply. "And what's he gonna do with the ones he picked? Stick them on the main roster without a clear plan, a clear program, and hope they get over by sheer strength of will? We both know that's not gonna happen."

"It's not a fair system," she conceded. "Never has been, never will be."

He shook his head. "Steph…I've got a whole Performance Center full of bright-eyed kids who want nothing more than to move up to the main roster. Times like this… I wonder if I should just flat out tell them that what's waiting for them there is a whole lotta bullshit and an old man who can bury them on a whim."

"Don't be so harsh, sweetie…" she said as she rested a chin on his shoulder. "You can still get your way if you can convince him. You know he listens to you."

"I wish he'd listen to me _more_ ," Hunter said, staring at their reflection in the window's glass panes.

"You need to give him time," she told him. "You can't push him too hard, Hunter…you know this."

He took a swig from his bottle, trying to cool his parched throat. "I know…"

For a while neither of them said anything, just stood there together as the city bustled below, muffled noises of traffic and the occasional wail of a distant siren. Hunter's mind drifted towards Roman once again, wondering what he was doing, what time he got up this morning and whether he was upset about waking up to an empty bed. In hindsight, Hunter probably should've woken him up even if only to let him know that he was leaving, but Roman had so much trouble falling asleep in the first place that Hunter simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

"So…" Steph said as she scooted even closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you bring him with you?"

"Yeah…" Hunter said, matching her tone. "He's in a hotel room downtown."

"And how is he doing?"

"Pretty good, all things considered…" he said. "Keeping out of trouble."

She chuckled lightly against his shoulder. "How's that possible when he spends all his time with _you_?"

He had to smile at that, even just a little. "Well, you got me there, babe…"

She reached up to straighten his tie a little, neatly-manicured fingers brushing against the lapel of his suit. "You know...all these years, watching them come and go, one after another…I knew eventually there was gonna be one of them you'd get all… _precious_ about."

Hunter felt his chest tighten slightly at her remark, though he fought not to let it show. She probably noticed anyway.

"When…when did you realize it was him?" he dared himself to ask.

"When you stopped telling stories about him a couple months in," she leaned in closer. "Like he was something you wanted to keep all for yourself…something you didn't want to share with anyone."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "That was two years ago."

"Yes…and I knew even then," she said.

He shook his head slowly. "I _didn't_."

"Well, I guess you're lucky I'm around to tell you these things, then—" she said, the wistful tone in her voice skirting somewhere between fondness and mockery. It wasn't her microphone voice, the one she used to address arenas full of booing fans who were clamoring to see her put in her place, or the one she used in front of crowds of sponsors and stakeholders. It was an altogether private voice, the one shared between them, the one he suspected even her father rarely heard.

"Does it bother you?" he asked after another long silence.

"You'd have known if it did…" she said matter-of-factly. "I would've said something then. That was our agreement, wasn't it?"

The agreement, such as it was, had some stipulations and clauses to it, but what it essentially boiled down to was total and complete honesty. There was nothing he would hide from her, and vice versa, though in practice he rarely disclosed things to her without her prompting him for the information first. That she had waited this long to bring up Roman told him that perhaps she'd been as reluctant as he was to confront the reality of what was going on.

"I'm going to tell you something you've never heard me say before…" he said as he grasped one of her hands in hers. "I don't know what I'm doing."

She looked up at him, genuine concern coloring her eyes. "What do you mean?"

" _Him_. I don't know what I'm doing with him—where it goes, how it ends, whether I'm doing him more harm than good…"

"Oh, sweetie…" she clasped his fingers tighter. "I can't answer the first two, but I'm pretty darn sure you're doing him a lot of good right now."

"Am I, though?"

"Hunter, it wasn't you that turned the world against him," she reminded him. "You tried to fix it. We gave it our best shot."

"And it didn't fucking work," he shook his head. "That whole program—it just got worse for him as it went on. And I should've seen it coming, Steph…I should've seen the signs."

"Bullshit," she said. "When spearing _me_ into the mat doesn't get somebody over, we both know that means the problem runs deeper and more complicated than just a few bad bookings."

He made a pathetic attempt at a laugh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, that usually does the trick, doesn't it?"

"I know you like the idea of being able to orchestrate or manipulate every outcome, babe…you've gotten so good at that over the years," Stephanie said. "But there are things even _you_ can't control."

He couldn't help but smile mournfully at that. "Would it surprise you to know that last year, Dean Ambrose said the exact same thing to me?"

Steph raised her eyebrows a little. "The exact same thing?"

"Almost to the word," he nodded. "Though he didn't quite call me 'babe',"

"I'm glad he didn't, or else I _would_ have an issue," she elbowed him playfully. "He's not wrong, though."

"No…no he isn't." Hunter agreed.

She took a deep breath and withdrew a little, where she could cup his jaw in her hands and look him in the eyes. "You're a good man who's trying to do the right things. There's a lot of people out there who don't see that, and they probably never will, but I see it."

"I don't need people to see it," he said. "I just want to do what I do and make a real difference in this company."

"Then go in there and fight for it," she gestured her head in the direction of the conference room. "Pick your battles, state your case, and stand your ground."

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes around the warmth emanating from her palms. Her hands were soft and small by comparison, a waft of feminine perfume emanating from her wrists. It was the same scent she'd worn on their first real date together, back when they still had the privilege of calling themselves young and foolish, an anchor in his memory. There had been very few constants in Hunter's life—wrestling was one, Stephanie was another.

"Thank you," he whispered, not bothering to elaborate the extent of what he was thanking her for. She didn't need it.

—

Dusk had descended over Stamford when Hunter could finally let himself back into his hotel room, letting his briefcase hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. Roman was standing in the middle of the room, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, the look on his face a mixture of relief and expectation. Wordlessly, Hunter beckoned him close with one hand as the other loosened his tie and tossed it aside, still marveling at how quickly and unquestioningly Roman went to him, as if he'd been waiting all day for this very moment.

He pulled Roman close as soon as he was within reach, not bothering with preamble and going straight for the younger man's mouth, kissing him fiercely with both hands clasping the back of his neck. Roman pressed close to him, the warmth and weight of him setting off a mixture of relief and aching need in Hunter's own body.

This, this was something he could control. How he touched Roman, how he held him, the things that happened within this protected space he'd fought so hard to maintain around them. He wasn't going to fuck this up. He _couldn't._

"You were gone so long…" Roman said breathlessly against his mouth, his voice deep and even but with a barely-masked tremble of urgency.

"I know," Hunter said as he kissed Roman's cheek. Since they'd been staying at Hunter's place in Orlando, he'd rarely let Roman out of his sights for more than a few hours at a time, except when he had tapings down at Full Sail, and even then there would be a constant stream of text messages just to keep in touch with what the other was doing. Today was the longest they'd been away from each other without some form of contact—twelve hours. It did things to Hunter that didn't bode well for how he would cope with the inevitable day when he could no longer keep Roman for himself, when he would have to get used to the idea of other people—trainers, opponents, referees, fans—even _touching_ Roman again.

The thought made him shudder and pull Roman down with him as he sank to his knees, two grown men tumbling awkwardly with their thick limbs tangled around each other, still chasing at each other's mouth. Hunter nipped none-too-gently at Roman's neck as they fumbled with buttons and zippers, feeling the urgent need to make some kind of mark on the boy's flesh. Roman was used to it by now—he let out a small gasp but didn't pull away, letting Hunter manhandle him until he was astride the older man's lap, his back to the wall as his legs wrapped around Hunter's waist. Hunter latched onto every inch of flesh available to him as clothes were thrown aside, the sharp bite of teeth followed by long licks of his tongue, hands kneading possessively at Roman's thighs.

Steph had called him a good man but Hunter knew better. He was a selfish man, through and through, who wanted things his way and wanted to keep what was his. And Roman? Roman was _his_. He could keep Roman happy, or at the very least— _content_ , blissfully removed from the fickle mob or the nameless voices that clamored for his demise. He could keep Roman away from all that, what fool would knowingly let him back out into the world just to get torn down again?

 _You're fooling yourself_ , the voice inside his head told him. _You're a lot of things, but a fool shouldn't be one of them._ That the voice sounded worryingly like Steph's was something he vehemently chose to ignore.

He breached Roman almost dry, spit and sweat not nearly enough to ease his way in but he'd been rougher in the past and Roman had taken it, the same way he'd taken everything Hunter had ever done to him. Roman clasped his arms around Hunter's back and moaned, the sound of it sparking off something primal and dark in the recesses of Hunter's mind. He'd broken the boy's body through tables, smashed his head into steel steps and cracked his nose against ringposts. Roman could give as good as he got. Except he never did, not when they were like this, not with Hunter's cock splitting him open and the air between them foggy with lust.

Roman's long hair was hanging in sweaty strands, plastered against his face and his gasping, open mouth, glassy brown eyes unfocused even as Hunter stared right into them. He was so fucking beautiful like this, open and pliant, breath hitching in his throat as his head thrashed against the wall behind it. Hunter knew that look so well—it was the look that had drawn him in the first place, the look that had his brain, devious to begin with, coming up with all sorts of ideas as to how he could lock this intoxicating creature in his possession forever, claimed for and forbidden to anyone else.

 _What the fuck have you done to me?_

It wasn't a fair question, and Hunter knew it even as it rang in his mind—it was Hunter who had done most of the _doing_ in their shared, unbalanced history together. Roman had gone along with everything—obedient, eager to please, accommodating, _trusting_. The look in his eyes never changed, whether Hunter was making slow love to him and telling him how precious he was or slamming him to the floor and mounting him like he was nothing more than breeding stock. Nobody else in the world had ever looked at him like that.

Stephanie always looked at him like she had him figured out, like she knew him better than he knew himself.

Seth, by comparison, used to stare at him like he was egging Hunter on, like he was figuring out his next big tease.

Sami's gaze was harder for him to bear—questioning, searching, like he could look right through Hunter even without trying.

But Roman Reigns had never looked at him with anything other than utter and complete trust, something he should know better than to give a man of Hunter's disposition. No man with his ego should've been given this much of an opening to something he so single-mindedly wanted, and no man in Roman's position should have ever given himself up so easily. And yet there they were, two years on, and the look in Roman's eyes still left him dumbstruck and with a fire inside him he could never quell.

Roman's arms were flung loosely around his neck now, Hunter had coaxed his climax out of him with calloused hands and was now after his own release, fucking Roman against the wall. His knees would kill him in the morning but Hunter couldn't care less, thrusting hard and fast until he thumped Roman one last time against the wall, holding him there, spilling wet and messy inside his boy until he could feel some of it leaking around the bruised rim where his cock was still lodged tight.

"Fuuuck…" Roman let out a long, raspy sigh as his head fell on Hunter's shoulder. "Where'd that come from?"

"Heck if I know," Hunter said in between short, gasping breaths. His ears were still ringing.

"You never go at me like that unless it's after a big match," Roman said. "What happened today?"

Hunter shook his head. "I wouldn't call it a five-star classic…but it was definitely a fight."

"Oh…" Roman stroked trembling fingers down his chin, sweat beading on his face as if he'd just gone through an Iron Man match. "Did you win?"

Hunter rubbed his palms into Roman's stomach, coating his fingers with drying come and sweat. He hadn't exactly been keeping score, but at the end of the day he'd managed to fight tooth and claw to keep Nakamura and Samoa Joe in NXT, as well as getting the board to sign off on the Blackpool venue he'd wanted to use for the UK Tournament. Vince and some of the older boardmembers had initially rolled their eyes at the initial concept of an all-female tournament, but Hunter had done his homework preparing the scouting reports and videos that eventually won them over. The future of those he'd lost to the main roster was still uncertain, but his long-term plans remained intact.

"I think…I think I just _did._ "

Roman gave him a small, trembling smile. "S'not fair…how can you call it a win when I never fight back?"

There it was again, the seemingly offhand remark that sent something rumbling in his chest. "I sometimes wish you would, just a little."

Roman shook his head. "Don't wanna fight you…not anymore. Not ever."

Hunter kissed him then, deep and searing, if only because he couldn't look in the boy's eyes anymore. It was too much. His chest felt ready to burst with something that had been fighting its way to the surface for the better part of two years, something he hadn't seen coming when he first laid his hands on Roman's bruised back in a dimly-lit hotel room in Indianapolis.

"I'm sorry I left without telling you this morning," he whispered against Roman's jaw. "Didn't wanna wake you,"

"It's ok…" Roman assured him. "When…when can we go home?"

"Day after tomorrow," Hunter said, trying to ignore how Roman's intonation of _home_ set a flutter of warmth down his neck. "I have one more meeting in the morning, then we'll have the rest of the day free-but they can't free up the company plane until Wednesday."

"Okay…" Roman nodded.

"You had dinner yet?"

"No…"

"Me neither," Hunter said. "Don't feel like going out, so let's make the most out of room service and call it a night, yeah?"

"Yeah…" Roman agreed, then together they stumbled to get to their feet. Hunter's legs had nearly gone to sleep but he steadied himself with one hand braced on the wall and one arm around Roman's waist, still mouthing at the skin on his tattooed shoulder. He couldn't get enough.

It turned out that Roman had skipped lunch just as he had, and it left both of them ravenous. Hunter ordered about half the items on the hotel's sparse room service menu while Roman took a long shower, and had the bellboy who brought the food up arrange the dishes on the low coffee table in the living room area of the suite. He tipped the young man generously and started picking at some of the appetizers, quickly realizing it was much more comfortable to sit on the floor with his back against the couch rather than sitting hunched over on it.

"Started without me?" Roman said as he stepped into Hunter's vision, draped in a hotel bathrobe that barely fitted over his shoulders.

Hunter merely smiled as Roman joined him on the floor, shower-damp body pressing against him. Soon all pretense of decorum was forgotten as he proceeded to hand-feed Roman, watching in rapt attention as the boy made a show of licking his fingers clean, each time waiting for the next handful that would be fed to him.

Hunter was hard again in no time, pulling Roman half onto his lap and chasing after the taste of food on Roman's lips with his own mouth, ignoring half-hearted protests about how much of a mess they were making and how they would need another shower after this.

It was dessert that ultimately proved to be his undoing, because the sight of Roman's thick, pinkish tongue licking frosting off his knuckles was just too much. He wrested Roman to straddle him, pushing the robe aside and gliding his fingers down to Roman's ass, still bare and smooth after his thorough shave job, bucking up wildly into him.

"Feeling full yet, baby boy?" he said as he scooped up another handful of frosting-laden cake on his fingers, bringing it close to Roman's mouth.

"S'long as you keep feeding me, Imma keep eating…" Roman said before he took nearly three of Hunter's fingers into his mouth, unabashedly moaning and grinding himself down on Hunter's cock as his eyes fluttered shut.

"I thought you had a healthy appetite before, but you just keep surprising me…" Hunter remarked as his other hand patted Roman's rump affectionately, marveling in its roundness and how the skin yielded to his touch. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have sworn I've knocked you up or something."

Roman gasped involuntarily around his fingers, a flush of color rising to his already warm cheeks.

"Yeah, you like the sound of that?" Hunter said as he drew his fingers out and cupped Roman's jaw firmly. "Like the idea of me knocking you up?"

Roman just stared at him, swollen lips trembling. "I...I can't-"

"Doesn't mean you can't enjoy the thought of it…" Hunter smiled, hand roving down to palm at Roman's belly. Roman had never gotten the rock-hard abdominal definition of some of his colleagues in the business, there was always some leftover give and pudginess in his middle that Hunter had always found himself drawn to. "I know I'd love the sight of you, all swollen up and full of me."

Roman's cock jumped at the words, Hunter could feel the change of tension in h is body. The flush on his cheeks was more pronounced now, even as his eyes went hazy with obvious arousal.

"Would you do that for me? Let me fill you up like that, get you so heavy with me you can't even fucking walk?"

Roman bit his lower lip and hissed out, "Yes…"

"Bet you'd look so good…" Hunter let his hand drift up to Roman's chest, fondling at his right pectoral. "Bet these would fill up nicely, too…"

Roman was completely gone now, not even pretending that he didn't enjoy it. He watched, as if hypnotized, as Hunter's hands roamed his body, feeling up the parts of him that would stretch and swell in their fantasized pregnancy, Hunter's voice narrating each of them close to his ear.

"Turn around," Hunter commanded.

Roman complied, sluggish with how quickly he'd fallen under, until he had his back to Hunter's chest. Slowly, Hunter guided him down until Roman's still-wet hole could sink down on his hard cock, legs splayed wide over each side of Hunter's, fully seated on his lap with his head thrown back against Hunter's shoulder. Hunter's hands went everywhere, palming greedily at Roman's chest and the slight swell of his belly, letting the feel of the skin under his hand drag them further and further into the fantasy.

"Boy as beautiful as you...you'd give me the prettiest little babies..." he said as he licked at Roman's neck. "You've got a body others would kill to get to breed with, but that's not gonna happen, is it?"

"No…" Roman gasped. "Only you…"

"Damn right…" Hunter said as he thrust upwards, holding Roman's hips down as he fucked into the boy's maddeningly tight hole. "Feel how deep I am in you right now, baby boy?"

"Y-yes…"

"I'd fuck you even deeper if I could," Hunter growled against his neck. "Make sure you're all nice and knocked up for me, full and ripe and fucking swollen…"

"Fuuck…" Roman threw his head back, hands reaching back to grasp the back of Hunter's neck.

"Just think of what I'd be able to do to you then," Hunter said. "I won't have to give you up after thirty days-I'd get to keep you for nine fucking months, maybe forever…"

Roman gasped and came at that, untouched, his cock sputtering wildly between his legs as a stream of unintelligible words came out of him, voice hoarse and breathless. Hunter followed soon after, the intensity of it too much for him to hold back anymore. His hands cupped Roman's stomach all through it, imagining that he was emptying his balls into a waiting womb.

 _And you thought you were fucked up before._

Roman quietly slipped off his lap and resettled himself next to Hunter as they both came down from the high, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the room.

"Too much?" Hunter managed to ask after some time.

"Fuck, no…" Roman said as he rested his head on Hunter's shoulder. "Do that again sometime,"

"Would've done it to you long ago if I knew you'd be so into it…" Hunter said as he pressed his nose into Roman's forehead. "Learn something new every day, I guess…"

"You're so fucking horny tonight," Roman said. "I mean, you _always_ are but you haven't been this intense for a long time."

Hunter sighed. "Hate to break it to you...but you might have to give that ass up again before the night is over."

Roman gave him an exaggerated pout. "Oh well, it's not like I have anything better to do when I'm traveling incognito with my boss…"

"Would make my business trips a lot less tedious, that's for sure…" Hunter said.

"You need to give me another bath. I did it last time," Roman demanded.

"You'll always end up needing another…" Hunter reminded him playfully.

"Whatever, we're in a hotel, it's not your water bill to pay…" Roman said.

"Fair enough," Hunter said.

True to his word, Hunter did manage to sneak in one more fuck before they both fell asleep that night, this time on the bed, a rather leisurely session compared to the previous two frantic encounters. He barely said anything throughout, not needing any fantasy to feed them this time, just kept his arm tight around Roman's waist as he rocked his cock into that sweet, welcoming hole, nipping at the base of Roman's neck.

Something had undoubtedly shaken loose inside him, something he couldn't fully attribute to the stress of that day's meeting and the long fight he'd had to put up just to protect his future interests. Maybe it was the unstoppable march of time, the inevitable ticking of the clock that reminded him that his time with Roman was finite. Maybe it was the confession that Steph had unwittingly forced out of him, the first time he'd had to confront his own uncertainty.

Or maybe it was Roman himself, who had followed him blindly out of the relative comfort of seclusion and into this city and this hotel room, where the bed was a just a bit too small and the shower didn't quite have enough water pressure, because Hunter had asked him to.

As Roman drifted off to sleep, Hunter kept watch over him for a long time, taking in features that had become so familiar to him over the last two weeks he was in danger of taking them for granted. Roman always curled a little in on himself when he slept, Hunter remembered learning that little tidbit from Seth many years ago. At first he thought it was because Roman felt the need to make himself small when he was sharing a hotel bed with two others and didn't want to take up the most space, but he still did it on beds twice as large and with nobody else but Hunter to share it with. It was just a little quirk, one of those random things one learned about another person over time, but Hunter found it oddly endearing.

 _You can't keep him forever._

No, but he could at least ensure there would always be something for Roman to come back to, something solid and clearly-defined, not just two grown men who'd spent the earlier part of the year beating each other up for public spectacle suddenly pretending to cohabitate like normal, well-adjusted people while the world passed them by. If Roman was willing to follow him anywhere, Hunter had to be sure he wasn't leading the boy into a mental quagmire that would only weaken and confuse him the further they went along.

He'd waited nearly two weeks. It was long enough.

Roman woke up with that familiar, pleasant ache in his body-the one that brought a smile to his face even before his eyes had fully opened. The bed next to him was empty, again, but that was to be expected-Hunter had left for his morning meeting but had promised that they'd have the rest of the day free.

Last night had been...fun, if a little bit odd. Hunter had come back from his long meeting like a caged animal set loose on his favorite prey, and hadn't bothered to divulge any details about what drove him to such a mood. Roman wasn't going to complain, though-he got a good meal and three amazing fucks out of it, which more than made up for the wholly boring day he'd had to endure while Hunter was away.

He went to the bathroom for a quick piss and came back to the bedroom to find his phone buzzing, and a familiar name flashing on screen.

 _Dean Ambrose_.

"Well, if it isn't the World Heavyweight Champ himself…"

"Oh, knock it off…" Dean's familiar rasp said from the other end. "How you doing, Big Dog?"

"Pretty good," Roman said. "All caught up on Game of Thrones now, just like the rest of the world."

"Well, I'm glad you've put your free time to good use," Dean said. "I take it you haven't been following what's been going on with us in the mad circus."

"All I know is that you've been defending my honor and Seth's been trying to dismantle it," Roman said. "Closest you'll ever come to chivalry and me being a medieval princess."

"I don't have three dragons at my disposal so my fists will have to do, I'm afraid…"

Roman grinned. "So you _have_ been watching the show."

"Renee's really fucking into it, she made me sit through a couple of box sets…" Dean sighed. "But don't expect me to give you a crown of flowers when you come back or some shit,"

"No, there's a Snapchat filter that'll do it for you,"

"Snap-what?"

"Forget it," Roman said quickly. "Everything good on the road?"

"Brand split's making everyone a bit antsy-looks like they're purposely holding out on telling us where we'll end up."

"You haven't had any hints?"

"I keep hearing SmackDown whenever my name's mentioned…" Dean said. "Nothing firm. And I've got the belt, so it goes where I go, theoretically."

"And how is the belt?"

"Heavier than I fucking thought," Dean said. "I haven't spilt beer or jerked off on it yet, though."

"I'm so fucking proud," Roman said dryly.

"Listen, the three of us are gonna have another tussle for it at Battleground, so...Seth and I thought it might be worthwhile for us to come down to Florida and work out some spots with you. You know, before you come back and get all swallowed up by the schedule again."

"That's a great idea, but…" Roman looked around. "I'm not in Florida right now, I'm afraid."

"Oh," Dean's voice sounded mildly disappointed. "You decide to get yourself a cabin in the woods and go full-on lumberjack?"

"I wish," Roman said. "I'm in Stamford right now."

"Headquarters? Why the fuck-are those bastards trying to haul your ass over the coals again?"

"No, Dean, nothing like that-" Roman sighed, knowing it was inevitable. "They didn't call me in. I'm with Hunter."

The silence that followed lasted a good five seconds before Dean managed another awkward "Oh…" into the receiver.

"I've been...staying with him in Orlando for the last two weeks," Roman continued. "He got called into a meeting at HQ a couple days ago, so...I went with him."

"I see…" Dean said. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he literally took you off the radar."

"Dean…" Roman rubbed at his eyes wearily. "He asked me to come down to Orlando. I said yes. It's simple as that,"

"No, Ro...it's not." Dean said, his voice insistently. "You sure that's how it went? He asked you? He didn't just throw down an offer he knew you wouldn't be able to refuse?"

Roman closed his eyes-times like these made him wish Dean wasn't so damn perceptive. "Dean…"

"You've been without him for months, Ro. You were doing just fine. You don't fucking need him,"

Roman gritted his teeth. "Maybe not, Dean...maybe I just _want_ him. Is that so hard for you to get?"

"Oh, I get it just fucking fine, Ro…" Dean said. "I don't have to like it. Not after the mess he put you through earlier this year,"

"That's not on him, and you know it." Roman said defensively.

"Look, I'm just saying...if he cared that much about you, he should've done something, pulled some strings, throw some of that fucking corporate weight around to actually fix things for you."

"You think I'd have liked that?" Roman felt his voice rising in tone. "I don't need him to pull strings for me, I _never_ needed anyone to pull any fucking strings for me-not here, not in The Shield, not back in fucking FCW when we were still in those stupid trunks and you wrestled half-drunk most of the time, okay? I don't _want_ any strings pulled on my behalf, ever."

He heard a drawn-out exhale from the other end. "Okay...okay, back the fuck up. That came out wrong. I didn't mean it like that,"

Roman shook his head. "Just...let me have this, Dean...please? It's probably the best thing that's happened to me for a good long while."

Dean sounded incredulous. "Better than the belt?"

"Fuck that damn belt…" Roman snapped. "I won it in a shitstorm, and I've put up with that shitstorm ever since. Seeing you wear it after cashing in on Seth was the high point for me so far this year, and I'm more than happy to let you keep it."

"Ro…"

"I'm serious, Dean…"

"Yeah, I figured out as much three sentences ago," Dean said. "Look, the whole time you been messing around with Hunter, I kept my mouth fucking shut, okay? It's just hard to see you come back some nights, looking like you've been put through a blender, all those bruises on you that I know didn't happen out in the ring…"

Dean's voice sounded painfully earnest somehow, which made Roman's chest tighten.

"Sometimes you'd get up for a shower or something, and I'd look over to your bed to find blood on the sheets-what's a guy supposed to think, Ro?"

Roman stared down at his body. It had been a long time since Hunter roughed him up badly enough to cause him to bleed, but he could see the bites and bruises from last night already starting to turn blue.

"I know it's fucked up, Dean…"

"Well, so is volunteering your head to be curb stomped through cinder blocks…" Dean said wistfully. "I guess that makes us even…"

Roman sighed heavily. "I never meant to make it difficult for you."

"I ain't a guy who gets easily bothered by things, you know…and I've seen plenty of shit in my time," Dean said. "I know some people have their arrangements or whatnot, some even sign papers for this kind of relationship..."

"That's...that's not what this is," Roman said.

"Then what is it? Do you know? Does _he_ know?"

Roman took another long glance around the room, at Hunter's clothes from yesterday draped over the back of a chair by the window, at the open suitcase on the floor which showed a row of neatly-folded shirts in muted tones of grey and pale blue. His cologne bottle was on the bedside table, next to the writing pad bearing the hotel's initials and the laminated paper with the list of TV channels. Even here, he was surrounded by everything _Hunter_. It had been the constant in his universe for the past two weeks, something he tethered himself to, something he was increasingly afraid he wouldn't be able to do without.

"Ro?"

"I don't fucking know, okay?" he said. "It is what it is, Dean…I don't have any illusions about riding off into the sunset or any bullshit like that. I just wanna enjoy what I've got, for as long as I've got it."

For a few moments, he heard nothing but the echo of his own breathing. Then Dean spoke again, his voice a little calmer and more even.

"Just...answer me this, Ro. Is he taking care of you?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Then I guess...that's all I need to know," Dean said.

"You don't sound convinced,"

"I don't have to be," Dean said. "If you say so, I gotta take your word for it."

"Dean…"

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop worrying, or that I like it any more than I did before. But you're right-it ain't my fucking business, and if it gets you through whatever, then what's left for me to say? It's gotta be enough for me."

Roman stared up at the ceiling, feeling tired despite the early hour of the day. "Thanks…for checking up on me."

"Miss you around here," Dean said. "Can't wait for you get back."

"Yeah, I…" Roman's word caught halfway in his throat. He couldn't quite match Dean's sincerity, but tried it anyway. "I can't wait to get back, either."

He had a feeling Dean sensed his reluctance, but decided against pressing the issue. "You take care, Big Dog…we'll talk again soon."

"Bye."

Once Dean hung up, Roman tossed his phone on the mattress and sank his face into his hands, digging the heel of his palms into the corners of his eyes.

 _Then what is it? Do you know? Does he know?_

It wasn't the first time he'd heard those questions. Often enough they'd echoed inside his own head, but hearing them spoken in Dean's voice, low and raspy and guttural, had made them all too real.

Roman stood up and walked towards the window, staring out at the rather dull and grey morning. Downtown Stamford afforded him a view of squat grey buildings mixed with Old World facades, making him miss the view out of Hunter's apartment, the quietly swaying palms and the joggers trudging across the pavement in their neon-bright gear.

Faintly, he heard the door to the suite swinging open, followed by a click of the lock seconds later.

"Roman?"

The sound of Hunter's voice always did something to him, even if it were something as simple as his own name. Roman had been following that voice for the better part of two years now, never questioning where it would take him. Now, he followed it out the bedroom and into the living room, where Hunter was setting down a white takeout box on the coffee table.

"Thought you had a morning session…"

"More like an informal breakfast at a restaurant downtown," Hunter said. "Try those pastries. They're good,"

Roman sat down and helped himself to a blueberry muffin that was about the size of his fist, catching crumbs with one hand as Hunter pulled out two takeaway cups of what smelled like fresh roast coffee.

"The coffee at HQ tasted like piss…" Hunter explained. "These are decent enough."

"Hmm…" Roman mumbled over a mouthful of chewy muffin.

Hunter, who had taken a seat on the couch next to him, seemed to notice his subdued mood. "You okay? Still sore from last night or something?"

Roman shook his head and swallowed. "It's fine…"

"Well, you definitely look like something's bothering you," Hunter pried the half-eaten muffin from his hand and set it back on the table. "What is it?"

Roman pulled his knees up to his chest. "Can I at least get some coffee first?"

"Sure," Hunter smiled at him. Roman watched as he uncapped one of the paper cups and put sugar in it-half a sachet, exactly how Roman liked it, and stirred it with a plastic spoon before handing it over, even blowing at it slightly to dispel some of the heat. Roman let some of the heat seep into his palms before drinking it, sipping at it gingerly so as not to scorch his tongue. Hunter helped himself to his own cup, which he took without sugar, one arm casually draped over Roman's shoulders.

If Roman closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that they were back in Orlando, watching overly-chipper morning talk show hosts on TV with the volume turned down, bathed in sunlight from the tall windows behind Hunter's desk. It was familiar enough to feel like it was a lifelong routine, even though they hadn't been doing it for more than two weeks.

Then again, what came before those two weeks was fading into a haze in Roman's mind, his points of recall reduced to a few choice highlights, like the crash of AJ Styles' forearm into his chest, Dean holding aloft a golden briefcase, and Seth's stupid mouth hanging open as he sold that moment for all it was worth. Even when he was in the thick of it, he'd felt more and more like a spectator, and truth be told he didn't mind all that much-he'd had his time in the spotlight already, and it hadn't amounted to much, really. Just a chorus of mounting disapproval that followed him from city to city, arena to arena, until the verdict came that would remove him from the ring altogether.

"You gonna tell me what's up?" Hunter's voice was gentle next to his ear, matched by the stroke of two calloused fingers down his cheek. Roman couldn't help but close his eyes to the sensation, trying to remember if anyone had touched him like this in living memory. Maybe Seth or Dean, in one of those rare Shield-era nights when they were feeling mellow and touchy-feely with each other, but Roman's skin didn't keep a record of their touches the way it seemed to do with Hunter, each contact recalling those that came before.

"Dean called," he said quietly. "He thought I was still in Pensacola-talked about coming down for a visit with Seth so we could work out a few spots for Battleground."

"Did you tell him where you are?"

"Yeah…" Roman shrugged. "Didn't feel the need to keep it from him."

Hunter sighed as he took another sip of his coffee. "I'm guessing he still fucking hates me, then."

"He doesn't hate you," Roman said. "He's not...totally comfortable with it, but hate's too strong a word."

"He's always worried about you," Hunter said. "Probably still thinks I'm bad for you."

"Yeah, well fuck what he thinks," Roman said sharply. "I don't care,"

Hunter regarded him closely. "Then why are you so upset?"

"I'm not,"

"Bullshit," Hunter said as he scooted closer and gently took the half-empty coffee cup from Roman's hand, setting it safely aside. "Come on, tell me…"

Hunter had a way of coaxing things from him, a gentle prod here and a prompting question there, one hand rubbing circles on Roman's lower back while the other lay warm and firm against his thigh. There was nothing forceful in his gestures, but there was no escape either. Inevitably, the words would have to come out one way or another.

"He asked me if I knew what I...what _we_ are doing," Roman said. "If I even know what all of this means...if you know."

Hunter's expression wavered only slightly, like none of this came as a surprise to him. Roman couldn't decide if he found it a comfort or an annoyance, the fact that Hunter seemed to always be one step ahead of him. Then again, Hunter was the EVP of the company and Roman was a glorified circus performer whose act had gone stale.

"I used to think I know…" he continued. "It was simpler back then. Wasn't hard for me to explain, even to him. But it's not that anymore, is it?"

Hunter averted his gaze slightly, lower jaw working as he seemed to process the question. Roman's eyes were fixed on him, a gnawing sense of desperation starting suddenly in his gut. He wanted-no, he _needed_ Hunter to have the answer.

"Well...what do you want it to mean?" Hunter asked, eyes still downcast.

Roman shook his head. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. "You really need to stop doing that…"

The hand on Roman's back froze as Hunter looked at him. "W-what?"

"I've told you, so many times…I don't want you to ask." Roman said. "I don't want to be asked. It beats the whole fucking purpose. I'm not here to call the shots, you are."

"Roman…"

"I need to hear it from you. Not the other way around," Roman continued, afraid he wouldn't get the words out if he stopped now. "You tell me what the fuck we're doing here, and I'll nod my head and play along, because that's how we both like it to be. Let's not pretend we're suddenly equals here just because shit's getting real."

Hunter withdrew like he'd been stung, and for a good few seconds Roman was afraid that he'd gone too far, that things had been broken beyond repair. The fear grew tenfold when Hunter stood up from the couch, and a cold sensation broke across the back of Roman's neck.

 _Great job, you idiot. Fucking genius move, there._

But Hunter only walked as far away as his briefcase, and Roman watched as he unlatched it and pulled out what looked like a small flat cardboard box, plain and unmarked, and brought it back to the couch. Roman could barely look him in the eyes as he sat back down, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the box in the older man's hand.

"I had this made for you earlier this year...around the same time I ordered Sami's sideplates," Hunter said, his voice calm and even. "Planned to give it to you during Wrestlemania weekend, but didn't seem like a good idea then…"

Roman swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I decided to pick it up this morning because I thought the time was finally right to give it to you," Hunter continued, opening the box's lid. "I guess my hunch was right."

For a few moments, Roman couldn't process what he was seeing. He saw a thick black band of braided leather, accented with silver clasps and something hanging from it like a pendant. He was still dumbstruck, moments later, when Hunter reached for his left ankle and pulled it onto his lap, tossing the box aside in the process.

Wordlessly, Hunter wrapped the band around Roman's ankle and fitted the clasps together, the pendant making a low jingling sound as he did so. It fit so snugly around him, like it was made for him and him alone, unlike store-bought watches or belts that always needed adjusting.

"The costume department still kept a set of your measurements from when you had your boots made…" Hunter explained further as he turned the band around Roman's ankle. "I just gave them to the jeweler so he could make the band just right for you."

When Roman could finally see the shape of the pendant, he finally let out the breath he'd been holding. It told him everything he needed to know.

A sterling silver 'H', large enough to not be dainty yet small enough to still be inconspicuous, dangling from a metal fitting looped around the braided leather. It was beautiful-probably the most beautiful thing Roman's seen in a long, long time.

"You know what this means…" Hunter spoke again, his voice low as his hands cradled Roman's newly-adorned ankle.

"I do…" Roman said. "I still wanna hear it from you, though."

"Okay…" Hunter relented. "Come here, first…"

Roman withdrew his ankle from Hunter's lap so he could move closer to him on the couch, letting two big, familiar hands take him in by the shoulders and pull him close. Hunter leaned back slightly, taking most of Roman's weight with him, letting him settle comfortably against his chest.

"You were right, this _did_ start out a lot simpler," Hunter began. "I saw you, I wanted you, I went and got you. That was it. That's how it usually goes with the others, too-not just Seth, even the ones before him, the methods may vary but the endgame was always the same."

Roman just nodded slowly, his hand reaching up to fiddle with the buttons of Hunter's shirt, another habit he seemed to have developed over the last two weeks.

"When you asked if we could take a break after the Royal Rumble, I thought nothing of it…" Hunter said. "It made sense. We were about to get into a regular schedule of beating each other senseless, and I wanted to give you whatever space you needed to keep yourself together."

"I did a shitty job at keeping myself together," Roman said.

"And I ended up doing a shitty job at Wrestlemania," Hunter said. "Let's not sugar-coat it. I thought I still had it in me to carry a Main Event with you, but a massive ego is no substitute for being, say, five years younger."

Roman snorted a little. "I wasn't angry with you."

"I kinda wish you were," Hunter said, his pam resting warmly against Roman's back. "I was pissed with myself. All those times I'd roughed you up, smacked you around, bruised you to hell and back both out in the ring and in private...that was the one time I felt like I'd let you down."

Roman sighed, his index finger idly prying a button loose from its hole. Maybe he _had_ been angry, just a little bit, though back then he'd directed most of it at the hostile crowds, or at himself, or at the unfortunate circumstances which left him as the company's poster boy for mishandled pushes. If he'd felt let down at all by Hunter, he couldn't remember acknowledging it to himself.

"Maybe I wanted to make it up to you, and I saw my chance when you got suspended. Or maybe...and this is more likely knowing the kind of guy that I am, I just wanted you back."

"Either way, you got me back," Roman said against Hunter's chest. "Doesn't really matter,"

"I want to _keep_ you this time," Hunter said. "That's all I've been able to think about since you got in that limo with me at the airport."

Roman shuddered involuntarily, letting the ripple work its way down his body. "You're doing a pretty good job of it, so far…"

"It's not enough," Hunter said. "In a matter of weeks, you'll be back out there...and as much as I tell myself you'll do just fine, that it's where you belong, another part of me kinda wants to stay like this. Just like this. You and me, and nobody else."

"Yeah, same here…" Roman said. "Couldn't even lie convincingly when I was telling Dean that I was looking forward to coming back."

Hunter chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated through his chest. "What a mess we've made, huh?"

"Least it's ours," Roman said.

"Yeah…" Hunter agreed. "Yeah, it's ours."

For a while Roman just closed his eyes, focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of Hunter's chest. None of this felt like a revelation, just confirmation of things he probably already knew. There was no stirring piano music playing in his head, no sudden lightness in his being. Just the noise of traffic and the low hum of the room's air conditioner, an utterly mundane late morning in downtown Stamford where two guys just happened to finally decide to talk about their feelings.

"Yesterday was rough for me…" Hunter said, his fingers starting to coil in the strands of Roman's hair. "I had to sit there and listen as some of my hard work got taken apart, all these things I'd planned just thrown out of the window because Vince suddenly decided he wanted this guy or that girl on the main roster, and that was that."

"The more things change, huh?"

"Maybe he was trying to tell me something, you know? Maybe he was trying to remind me that it was still him calling the shots, that in the end it's still his company."

"It's gonna be you someday soon," Roman sighed against Hunter's chest. "You said so yourself."

"Not soon enough," Hunter said. "If anything, it just reminded me that for all the weight I throw around, there's so much I have no control of. What happens to guys when they move up, what happens when they get saddled with a gimmick that does nothing for them...what's gonna happen to _you_."

Roman could feel Hunter's fingers at the back of his neck, and he moved into the warmth of the touch without thinking, trying to surround himself with as much of Hunter as possible.

"I can control _this_ , though... _us._ " Hunter said, pressing ever so slightly into the point of Roman's pulse. "I don't have to just ride it out or let time do what it will. I can decide this for us. I'm deciding for us now."

Roman dragged his leg to drape over Hunter's, rubbing the leather of his anklet against Hunter's calf, feeling like he could almost sob with relief. "Thank you…"

"You know why that thing's around your ankle, right?"

"Yeah…" Roman said. "Because you can't put it around my neck."

Hunter let out a long, heavy exhale, and suddenly Roman found himself flipped over until he was lying on his back on the couch. Hunter hovered above him, his weight pressed down the entire length of Roman's body, eyes clear and piercing.

"Let's just make this absolutely clear, shall we? You want me to call the shots, I'm calling it."

"Yes…" Roman nodded, letting Hunter take each of wrists and grip them tight.

"You...all of you," Hunter said slowly and deliberately. "...belong to _me._ "

"Yes…" Roman repeated, a slight shakiness creeping into his voice.

"I can't always be with you out there, on the road, and both of us will probably still be messing around with other people like we've always done...but it's always gonna be me you come back to, you understand?"

"Yes…" Roman said again, trying to fight off the thick haze starting to envelop him to focus on Hunter's voice.

"When you're alone with me, you'll be a good boy and do as I say, and you'll give me what I want, however I want it."

"Fuck, yes…" Roman hissed, his eyes falling shut. There was unmistakable heat coiling in his gut now, spreading quickly through his body, his wrists twitching helplessly in Hunter's grip.

"And I promise you, I'll make it worth your while," Hunter said. "Whenever you're with me, none of that bullshit out there matters. Nothing touches you, nothing hurts you. Just me."

 _Just you. Just you. It's only ever been you._

"I fucking love you, you know that?"

Roman's eyes flew open, but before he could say anything Hunter was kissing him, rough mouth and lips dry from all the talking, the sharp taste of coffee and a surge of something else altogether, messy and wet and overwhelming.

 _Fuck you, fuck you, at least let me say it back before you take my speech away, fuck you..._

But Roman returned the kiss nonetheless, and realizing his hands were free he flung them around Hunter's neck to pull him down even further, doing the same with his legs around Hunter's waist. His thoughts were a rushing flood, half-words and feelings that flew by quicker than he could pin them down.

He had to wrench his mouth free in the end, gasping for air as his fingers raked through the coarse strands of Hunter's beard, grey-speckled and glistening.

"Love you too…" he managed to whisper, watching a smile bloom over Hunter's lips in reaction.

 _Nothing else matters. Nothing touches me. Nothing hurts me. Just you._

If he were more of a romantic he guessed he might have been disappointed at the lack of fanfare, at how fucking inevitable it all seemed. The last two years of building up to this, the last two weeks of dancing around it while they all but lived some kind of domestic fantasy together, all this claim of ownership and obedience and finally, fucking finally, just that simple admission.

"How about we go all-out cliche and seal this whole deal with a fuck?" Hunter said.

"Jesus, thought you'd never get to it," Roman snorted. "Yeah."

The bed had gotten cold in their absence but it soon warmed up to them again, Hunter climbing on the bed on his knees as soon as he'd discarded the last of his clothes. Roman lifted his left leg and Hunter caught it, bringing Roman's ankle close to his mouth so he could trace his mouth around the leather strap that encircled it so snugly.

Hunter took longer to prepare him this time than he did last night, opening him up with fingers until Roman was fucking himself furiously down onto them, working his hips as Hunter's lube-coated digits made slick noises against his hole on every thrust. All the while Hunter watched him unravel, keeping his fingers still and letting Roman work himself into a frenzy, until he mercifully pulled out and replaced the fingers with his cock.

Roman knew from the very first time, _his_ first time, that he'd never get tired of the feeling of Hunter's cock inside him. He'd never done this with anybody else, and maybe he never will. That feeling of being filled up completely until he was fit to burst, the heat and tightness of it splitting him open, just never got old.

Thankfully, Hunter wasn't in the mood to play games once he was inside. He went straight into it, fucking Roman with a pace that felt like it would pulverize him, the obscene sounds of wet flesh matched only by the ungodly moans Roman couldn't keep from wrenching his throat.

Hunter was all over him, mouthing at his neck, sucking at his collar bone, teeth scraping over his nipples until they were raw and swollen, like he'd done so many times before, like he'd undoubtedly do many times over again. Roman was too far gone to take any mental notes, to see if anything worked any differently now that things had been let out into the open, but it all just felt so familiar and close, so easy to lose himself in, and that's exactly what he did.

They came nearly together, Roman into Hunter's fist and Hunter mere seconds later, and Roman felt like he'd been wrung dry, throat parched and ears ringing. Hunter stayed inside him as they both came down, holding him through the convulsions of aftershocks that rocked them both, his sweat dripping down onto Roman's body. In the bright sunlight coming from the window, Roman could see Hunter's skin taking on the reddish tinge of exertion, his brows tightly drawn across his forehead.

Wordlessly, Hunter pulled out and situated himself on his side, pressing his chest against Roman's back and a flinging a big, sweaty arm across his waist. Common sense would probably say that a shower was in order, or at least some kind of wipe-down, but common sense had no place in whatever they'd just agreed to, and Roman was okay with that. He didn't need it. He had Hunter.

"Yesterday you said...we have the rest of the day off?" he asked once his voice had returned.

"Yeah…" Hunter said against the back of his neck. "I think I'll just spend the rest of it right here."

"Fine by me," Roman muttered. He wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon, everything still too intense and prickly, so he settled for simply lying there and letting it all sink in, the weight of Hunter's arm around him, the knee that was wedged between his wet thighs, the sound of Hunter's breathing so close to his ear, the leather band around his ankle. The old, the new, the things previously simmering below that had now been pulled up to the surface, and the mental countdown that didn't quite have the same ominous ring as it had before.

 _Seventeen days._

When they finally made it back to Hunter's apartment in Orlando the following day, the first thing they did-before they'd even unpacked-was run a hot bath in Hunter's large tub and settle in for a long soak, Roman sitting snugly in the space between Hunter's legs. It was such a relief to be home, surrounded by familiar sounds and smells, the comforting ripples of water against his skin and Hunter's chin resting on his shoulder.

"I'll get a spare keycard made for you," Hunter said. "Feel free to stay here whenever you feel like it, don't have to wait for me."

"Cool…" Roman said as he sank deeper into the water, his left leg dangling over the rim of the tub. He hadn't taken the anklet off since Hunter had put it on him, and didn't intend to do so until he absolutely had to-probably once he was traveling with the roster again. Wouldn't do for his colleagues to notice that he was wearing a piece of jewelry with his boss' initials on it.

"Think you're gonna tell Ambrose about all this?" Hunter asked quietly. "He _did_ ask the question, after all…"

"I don't know…" Roman shrugged. "Not sure having an answer would put him at ease,"

"Did it put you at ease, at least?"

"Fuck, yeah…" Roman said, shifting a little in the tub so he could face Hunter. "Like...I didn't realize how badly I needed to know exactly where I stood with you until I asked, but I'm glad I did. It's all clear now."

"Good," Hunter said as he pressed his thumb against Roman's chin. "Because I don't ever want you to question it again."

"I won't…" Roman said. "I promise."

The night went slowly for them after that, a quiet dinner followed by Hunter working at his desk while Roman curled up in bed with his tablet, watching the first episode of an exhaustive PBS documentary about the history of New York City. He'd gotten as far as the part about George Washington's retreat during the Revolutionary War when Hunter finally joined him, stifling a yawn as he got under the covers.

Roman switched off the bedside light, reaching in the darkness until he could find the warmth of Hunter's body, pressing himself close against it.

"You good, baby boy?" Hunter said as he drew the blankets up over them, his other hand cradling the back of Roman's head.

"Better than I've ever been…" Roman said. He meant it.

They hit the halfway mark, fifteen days, and Hunter's playful streak made itself known again. He made Roman sit on his lap all morning long, buck naked save for the leather band around his ankle, as Hunter sat at his desk and did his usual business, signing papers and writing e-mails and taking phone calls. Roman had his chest pressed flush against Hunter's, the crisp material of the older man's business shirt rubbing against his bare skin, seated in all his naked glory right in front of the tall window that let the sunshine through.

He wasn't there to enjoy the view, though-Hunter always had one hand free and it went to town on Roman, fondling his ass and even smacking it whenever he got distracted, pinching just for the sake of teasing and making Roman grind down on his lap.

Roman was painfully hard throughout, his cock rubbing torturously against the buckle of Hunter's belt and slicking it with pre-come, and he could feel Hunter's own erection just under the material of his pants. Hunter kept his composure, though, casually going about his business as if Roman wasn't there, purposely avoiding his gaze like he was nothing more than an oversized piece of corporate toy.

Hunter took a call from the production office down at Full Sail, something about getting some extra seating in for the Cruiserweight Classic finals, and a few minutes into that utterly mundane conversation Roman felt a finger sneaking between his asscheeks and breaching his entrance, teasing him open. It took every bit of self-control for him not to cry out, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood, grinding down on Hunter's finger slowly like the world's laziest lapdancer.

He was so open like this, so exposed, he could feel the heat of sunlight through the glass against his bare skin, Hunter's voice utterly detached from what his hand was doing to Roman's body, and it was almost overwhelming.

"If you need an extra camera crew, we could always ask the school," Hunter said, his finger jabbing deep and nearly knocking Roman off his perch. "I'm sure those kids would love the extra summer credits…"

During the pause in which the other person spoke, Hunter moved his mouth away from his phone just enough to be able to latch onto Roman's left nipple, pulling the bud between his teeth until Roman could feel tears in the corners of his eyes. He was so hard, Hunter had been teasing him like this for hours now, he was ready to shoot at any moment, but he couldn't, not until Hunter said he could.

"Yeah, update me once you hear back from them okay? Thanks, bye." Hunter hung up and put his phone back on the desk.

Roman's head was lolling against Hunter's shoulder by this point, breathing heavy, desperate for some kind of attention.

"Aww, look at you…" Hunter said mock-sweetly, brushing strands of sweaty hair away from Hunter's neck. "Did I get you all worked up, baby?"

"Uh-huh…" Roman nodded.

Hunter worked another finger into him, the stretch causing Roman to gasp. "Fucking beautiful... all sweaty and naked and hot for me, my own little slut…"

Roman mewled at that, hands resting on Hunter's shoulder. "Please…"

"Yeah, you like it when I do this, don't you?"" Hunter ran his mouth down Roman's trembling neck. "Get you all hot and bothered, begging for it…"

Roman nodded enthusiastically, shutting his eyes against the sunlight that was bright enough to blind him.

"You'll get my cock later, after I'm finished working," Hunter said firmly. "For now, you can rub yourself off on me like the slut that you are. Come on, now."

Shaking with relief, Roman started to move in earnest, grinding against Hunter, seeking any kind of friction on his painfully hard cock. It was the rub of the coarse leather of Hunter's belt on his sensitive underside that finally did it, sending him sputtering and moaning aloud, holding on to the armrests to stop himself from falling off.

Once he was spent, Hunter scooped him up and carried him like he weighed nothing, walking the short distance between his desk and the living room couch and dumping Roman onto it.

"Keep that ass where I can see it," he whispered in Roman's ear before walking back towards his deck, utterly unbothered by the fact that his shirt and pants were soiled with Roman's release.

Roman curled himself up on the couch, keeping his backside in Hunter's full view, wondering how he must have looked, naked and shaking, hole glistening wet from Hunter's fingering and belly splattered with his own come.

But Hunter barely looked at him for the next ten minutes, palming his cock casually through his damp pants as he worked on his laptop, even starting to hum a little tune as Roman lay there waiting for him, presenting himself.

Roman felt like he could cry in relief when Hunter finally stood, already unzipping as he walked towards the couch. He was pulled down to the carpet and Hunter mounted him from behind, fucking him on his elbows and knees with his head on the floor.

It was too soon for Roman to get hard again, but that was beside the point. Hunter was fucking into him just how he liked it, rough and fast and unrelenting, hands gripping at his hips for leverage. The pendant hanging from Roman's anklet jingled in rhythm to their movements, a tiny noise that reminded him of his place.

He belonged here.

He belonged to Hunter.

He wouldn't want it any other way.

Outside of sex, Hunter wasn't particularly strict about maintaining the power balance-or imbalance, as it were. Their cohabitation went pretty much the same way it had before they'd gone to Connecticut-sharing household tasks like dealing with dirty laundry or doing the dishes, taking turns in the shower or in the gym, eating takeout dinners in front of the TV, squabbling over who used up the last bit of toothpaste. The contrast between this utterly mundane existence and the stuff they did in bed, or wherever else Hunter wanted to do it, should've been nothing short of whiplash-inducing, but Hunter never once left Roman confused or uncared for, always making sure he knew exactly what was expected of him.

Then day twenty rolled by, and Hunter went a little berserk.

Roman literally couldn't leave the bed all day, being given only enough respite to catch his breath slightly and recover before Hunter would be ready to go again. Roman didn't know whether he wanted to curse or thank whoever had put Hunter on his current exercise regime, because clearly the man had more stamina than most men half his age, and Roman was bearing the brunt of it.

By the end of it all Roman was completely exhausted and boneless, their bed was a fucking mess, and he was beginning to believe that you could, in fact, fuck someone into unconsciousness.

Hunter soon returned with a warm washcloth and a bottle of water, letting Roman drink as he wiped down his body, checking ever so diligently for any unwanted damage.

"How you feeling?" Hunter asked, sounding mildly apologetic.

"As long as I don't need to walk anywhere for another couple of days, I'll be fine…" Roman said. "You'll have to carry my fat ass around, I'm afraid."

"Gladly," Hunter smiled and tossed the washcloth aside, leaning down to kiss Roman's forehead. "You did so good for me…"

Roman purred happily at the praise, the ache in his bones momentarily forgotten.

On day twenty-seven, Roman's phone started coming alive with work-related things again. An appointment for one last drug test to clear his way back to the main roster. E-mails outlining his program for the next few weeks, draft scripts for backstage promos. Schedules for autograph signings and company events.

He put in more hours in the gym, Hunter thoughtfully giving him more time and space there as he tried to regain his conditioning. Outwardly there wasn't much that was different about Roman's appearance, but he knew he'd lost some of his muscle strength with his lapse in training. Hunter made a passing joke about Roman's sphincter probably being the most well-trained muscle in his body right now and nearly got a dumbbell thrown in his face for it.

On the evening of day twenty-eight, Hunter dressed him in a deep red button-down shirt and a pair of black denims and took him out to a sushi restaurant, where he sat back and watched amusedly as Roman proceeded to eat his way through what was probably half the contents of the restaurant's storeroom, quietly slipping the waiter his credit card without letting Roman even peek at the numbers on the bill.

When they got back home, Roman was still feeling full and sluggish as Hunter undressed him and coaxed him onto the bed, following it up by fucking him as slowly and deliberately as he'd ever done, every motion long and drawn out, like it was meant to never end. It came as a bit of a shock to Roman when he finally climaxed, almost as an afterthought, drowning in the thick haze of Hunter's voice and the gentleness of his hands.

The end, when it finally came, didn't feel so much like an end, after all.

Roman had decided to leave his suitcase and most of his clothes behind, wanting to have something there for his next stay, so he was leaving Orlando with little more than the clothes he was wearing and his belongings stuffed in a backpack.

Hunter slipped the spare keycard in the back pocket of his jeans and kissed him goodbye at the door, muttering something about letting him know as soon as he was back in Pensacola, and how he was going to try to catch up with the touring roster as soon as he'd taken care of a few things down at NXT.

The ride to the airport and the flight home was uneventful, and by four in the afternoon on day thirty, Roman was back in his half-furnished place in Pensacola, staring at the framed portraits lying slanted against the wall that he hadn't had time to properly hang, and the faint covering of month-old dust over his second-hand leather couch.

Roman sighed, tossing his backpack to the floor. He had a medical tomorrow and an appointment with the trainers straight after, so he might as well get his gear prepared and figure out what he was going to eat tonight.

Before getting down to that, though, Roman pulled out his phone and pressed Hunter's name on his contact list. It barely rung twice before it was picked up.

"Hey…" the familiar voice said. "You home?"

Roman looked around, smiling wistfully. "I _was…_ "

.

.

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	11. When In Vegas, Double Down - 2017

**Title : Keep Me In Close Orbit**

 **Author : ValmontHeights**

 **Rating : Mature / Explicit**

 **Relationships : Triple H/Roman Reigns, Triple H/Sami Zayn, Tripe H/Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn, Randy Orton/Roman Reigns**

 **Implied : Ambrolleigns, Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn**

 **WARNINGS: Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Not Kayfabe Compliant.**

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Author's Note: FILTH, GLORIOUS FILTH. I've been hinting at this since I wrote Chapter Two waaaaay back during the Triassic, it seems. But here it is, some filthy Triple H/Roman Reigns/Sami Zayn goodness for all who might enjoy such a thing. There's been a lot of sweetness and angst and mellow tenderness in the last few chapters and I thought I'd spice things up a bit-and give my boy Sami some care and attention in the process.

Specific warnings for this chapter: Hunter being the supreme Daddy and domming the living fuck out of both Sami and Roman, double penetration, spanking, light bondage, and some oddly misplaced fluff. Proceed with caution-and hand sanitizers.

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 **Chapter 11 - When In Vegas, Double Down - 2017**

Sami Zayn's not much of a gambler.

He's never understood the appeal of the gaudy Las Vegas strip, the incessant noise of slot machines lined up in blinking rows under vaulted ceilings painted in some kind of Renaissance mimicry, nor has he ever felt dazzled by the competing spectacles of dancing fountains and pirate ships and bursting volcanoes or whatever else the hoteliers have conjured to attract visitors to their establishments.

Right now, though, right now he feels like a high-roller who's just hit the jackpot.

Up high in a hotel suite with a balcony view overlooking the Strip, knees planted in burgundy-red bedding which provides a soft counterpoint to what's happening to the rest of his body, Hunter kneeling behind him, hands fitted comfortably in the dip of Sami's hips as he fucks him in a steady pace, his cock angled just right to hit Sami's sweet spot every time he thrusts in. Sami's missed this, missed the feeling of Hunter's hands and mouth and that dick, he's looked forward to this ever since Hunter mentioned it on the phone, and he wants to savor it for all its worth.

"How you doin' so far, Red?" Hunter's voice muttered close to his ear.

Sami can't quite vocalize his answer—his mouth is currently occupied by Roman's cock, Hunter's every thrust bobbing Sami's head on Roman's length as he concentrates hard on trying not to graze Roman too much with his teeth, so Sami just makes an affirmative noise in his throat and pushes his ass back enthusiastically to communicate his opinion about how all this is going.

He's certainly doing better than Roman, who has his wrists bound with Hunter's belt around the fancy headboard, and a red ballgag in his mouth muffling his moans. His legs are spread to give Sami access to his cock, and at Hunter's instructions Sami has his arms looped under each of Roman's thighs, holding him in place.

"Look at him, Red…"

Sami really, really _doesn't_ want to look—if only because the sight of Roman, bound and moaning incessantly around the gag in his mouth, saliva creating slick trails down his pretty lips and onto his ample, bronzed chest, is enough to make any man shoot his load. But he looks up anyway, meeting Roman's half-lidded gaze, trying to communicate something through the movements of his tongue on the underside of Roman's cock, even as Hunter's thrusts continue to rock the both of them off their equilibrium.

"He's so jealous of you right now," Hunter says as he flicks his tongue across Sami's left ear, causing gooseflesh to rise all the way down Sami's back. "He wants my cock in him so bad, but you're gettting it first and there's nothing he can do about it…"

Roman lets out a pained little whimper, but there's nothing like anger or frustration in his eyes. He just looks completely surrendered to his predicament, undulating his hips up to push a little more of his cock into Sami's mouth, more pleading than insistent. The sight of him does something unspeakable to Sami, hits him squarely in a dark, murky spot inside his mind he never even knew existed before, and he digs his fingers into Roman's thighs tighter in response.

"He's beautiful, right Sami?"

Sami nods emphatically, that much he can agree to. Roman's always beautiful, whether he's standing victorious atop the turnbuckles, being bathed in a flood of arena lights, or just flashing an easy smile in the locker room with his hair held back in that messy knot of his. But this…this is something else entirely. Sami feels oddly like a child being given the most expensive, pliant toy in the world by a doting father, which is a million degrees of fucked up considering what Hunter's doing to _him_ , but then again any thought of tonight being anything other than incredibly fucked up had abandoned him the minute he and Roman entered the suite earlier that night and found Hunter standing there waiting for them, stern-faced but with the glimmer of playfulness in his eyes.

Really, they should've known what to expect when they collectively decided to send Hunter that picture. Sami had a feeling Roman was sort of asking for it, really, and Sami's nothing if not curious to see how far they could take it, so he went along. It didn't take Hunter long to figure out who was the mastermind behind the whole idea, so he singled Roman out for 'punishment', if it can be called that. Roman was a mess by the end of it, ass beet red with Hunter's palm prints all over him, while Sami had been made to sit on a chair and watch, increasingly hard inside his jeans.

Sami's not much a of a role-player, nor does he consider himself particularly susceptible to the sort of mind games he knows Hunter likes to play. He likes exploring the kinds of things Hunter seems to know so much about, and they serve as useful distractions whenever his mind got too jumbled up and wiry even for his liking, an endless cacophony of thoughts and ideas that needed to be silenced with a pair of firm hands, a gravelly voice, and a cock that Sami was all too happy to be reacquainted with.

It was the sight of Roman, reduced to a mess of begging and pleading under Hunter's hands, that dragged Sami down to a place in his mind where he could begin to understand the appeal of it all. Every smack of Hunter's hand on Roman's skin sent a jolt down Sami's own body as if he was the one who'd been struck, and he could only watch dry-mouthed as Hunter heaved Roman off his lap and onto the bed, the Samoan naked and hard and dripping, and utterly pliant as Hunter maneuvered him into position and cuffed his hands to the headboard.

Then Sami's own ordeal had begun, being told to strip of all his clothes, a flush rising to his cheeks as he realized how exposed he was, erection bobbing as he followed Hunter's orders and climbed onto the mattress. His hands were trembling when he was given the red ballgag and told to put it on Roman, all the while Hunter was shuffling around behind him. Sami fastened the straps of the gag behind Roman's head as tightly as he could while maintaining some measure of tenderness, not wanting to hurt and yet so utterly transfixed by the reaction it produced. Roman looked up at him, eyes glazed over and wet, accommodating the gag between his teeth with an ease that told Sami that this was hardly the first time Roman had worn it.

A part of Sami felt a twinge of sympathy for him, wanted to savor him and comfort him in a way, and yet another part of him just wanted to _wreck_ Roman, wanted to take everything that was so easily offered up, the beautiful body that now lay helpless under him, almost at the mercy of his hands and mouth.

 _Almost_.

Because it's still Hunter calling the shots, after all.

A loud smack lands on Sami's rump then, as if to punctuate his thoughts, and he cries out around Roman's cock, unable to keep his teeth in check as they scrape lightly on Roman's length. Roman mewls out in a mixture of pain and what Sami hopes to God is some kind of pleasure, hollowing his cheeks out and sucking gently as a gesture of apology.

"Don't let him come, Sami…" Hunter mutters darkly against his ear. "None of you get to come before I say so."

Sami just nods, holding Roman's hips steady as he stills his mouth, as much as he can with Hunter fucking into him harder and harder. At times like these he sometimes envies Roman's apparent ability to surrender himself so completely into the moment, forget everything else that exists and just lose himself in the obscene tableau they're creating. Sami can't quite do that, even in the midst of all this a part of him is always analyzing, always recording for posterity, always trying to anticipate what comes next.

Right now, he's anticipating Hunter to strike again, and scratches a notch down his mental scoreboard when it happens, Hunter's palm striking his ass with not as much viciousness as he'd dispensed on Roman, but still enough to sting. Sami just pushes back, digging his knees further into the lush bedding as he angles his ass up, loving the burn and friction of Hunter inside him, the swell of Roman inside his mouth, the sweat-slick skin of Roman's thighs under his fingers.

"So fucking beautiful, both of you…" Hunter remarks fondly, as if commenting idly on a family photograph. "Think you could get away with teasing me, huh?"

Roman and Sami both make a noise from their throats—unintelligible, guttural, pleading. Hunter just chuckles darkly and leans down, licking a wet stripe up Sami's back.

"Sami's taking me so well, baby boy…" he says. "He feels real good around my cock, bet that mouth of his feels good around you, doesn't it?"

Roman nods frantically, looking somewhere behind Sami's shoulder where Sami suspects Hunter's face is hovering. He makes a desperate noise from behind his gag, another beady trail of saliva dripping down his messy chin.

"Oh, don't you worry about it… we've got all night and I'm just getting started," Hunter says, leaning back and starting to pound into Sami really hard, the formerly brisk pace now downright brutal.

Sami can do nothing but wrap his lips tight around Roman and moan through it, his prostate hit over and over by the blunt head of Hunter's cock, lifting his hips up to minimize friction between his own cock and the mattress, lest he shoot his load before Hunter commands it.

"Fuck, fuck…just like that, Red, just like that…"

Sami braces himself as Hunter thrusts two, three more times before holding himself still, fingers digging almost painfully into the skin of Sami's hips, surely leaving their marks there. Even with the condom on Sami can still feel the white-hot pulses of Hunter coming inside him, the shockwaves they send down his body. Sami rides out the aftershocks quietly, giving swiping licks up Roman's cock to get his mind off just how painfully hard he still is.

Hunter pulls out slowly, ripping the condom off and tossing it aside before pulling Sami off Roman's cock and upright, until he has Sami's back to his chest and twists his head around to kiss him, not caring or even enjoying the fact that Sami's mouth is slick with Roman, his hand cupping lightly around Sami's throat.

For awhile, Sami just indulges himself in the feeling of Hunter's solid presence behind him, arms wrapped tightly around him, the searing heat of his kiss and the raw scratch of his beard against Sami's chin. It's been too long, too long since he's been manhandled around and fucked so thoroughly the way only Hunter can, and a twisted part of him revels in the noises he can hear Roman making, the muffled protests and desperate mewls cutting through the air as Hunter continues to ravage Sami's mouth, as if on purpose.

Hunter's playing them both against each other, Sami knows this, and both he and Roman are loving every second of it.

Besides, Sami allows himself to think, Roman gets to feel this on a regular basis, if not quite every day—he can wait a little more for his turn.

 _Told you I wasn't innocent, Big Dog…_

Hunter reaches down and cradles Sami's erection, jutting out from his nest of reddish curls, stroking lazily. "Got you all excited, didn't I, Red? You still holding it for me?"

Sami nods, still unable to produce words despite his mouth being unoccupied.

"Good boy…" Hunter praises him, kissing the side of his neck. "Now, how do you wanna get off? You want my hands, or do you want to finish yourself off?"

"I…" Sami chokes out. "I want…"

Roman jangles the belt binding his wrists against the headboard to get their attention, mouthing something behind his gag, eyes dark and wild and huge. Sami takes one good look at him and feels a surge of something inside him, knows this is an opportunity he probably won't get again.

"His mouth…" Sami says tentatively, craning his neck to look at Hunter. "I want his mouth,"

Roman's shoulders sag in what Sami chooses to interpret as relief, while Hunter rewards him with a lopsided smirk. "Good choice, Sami…"

Sami's head is enveloped a thick fog of lust as he crawls up Roman's body until he's kneeling astride his chest, scarcely able to believe what he's about to do. Hunter's lying next to Roman, clearing sweaty strands of hair from his face and kissing his forehead affectionately. "You hear that, baby boy? Sami wants to come in that sweet mouth of yours…you gonna be good for him?"

Roman nods, looking up at Sami who's now hovering directly above him. Sami can see his own chest heaving with the sharp breaths he's letting out, tugging at his cock slowly as Hunter's hand works the gag out of Roman's mouth and lets it hang under his chin, wet with spit and glistening.

"Fuck his mouth, Red…" Hunter says, a hand at the small of Sami's back nudging him forward. Sami complies, acutely aware that he and Roman are no more than puppets on a string at this moment, pushing his cock into Roman's waiting mouth in one swift move. At Hunter's urging he starts moving, bracing his hands on the headboard as he fucks in and out of Roman's mouth, the velvet heat enveloping him almost too much to bear. He's had Roman's mouth on him before but never like this, never with both of them so keyed up and Hunter pulling their strings, orchestrating every moment for his own viewing pleasure. Roman, bless him, just lies there and takes it, thick lips pouted to perfection around Sami's length, eyes shut and hands dangling limply from his bindings.

"How's that?" Hunter asks as he looks up from the pillow, one hand cupping the back of Roman's neck.

"Fuck, he's…he's…" Sami struggles with the words. "Perfect…"

"You hear that, baby boy?" Hunter says, kissing Roman's cheek with a tenderness that seems to be misplaced considering that he's directing Sami to fuck Roman's throat as hard as he can. "Sami thinks you're perfect…"

Roman just mewls out something high-pitched and throaty, his lips tightening around Sami even more.

"Shit, shit…" Sami says, his fingernails scratching against the wallpaper.

"You gonna come, Sami?"

"Yeah…. _fuck!"_ Sami exclaims, his vision starting to gray out at the edges.

"Go on, come on…let Roman swallow all of it, he's fucking hungry for you, come on…give it to him." Hunter coaxes, and Sami can't take it anymore. He shoots his load deep in Roman's mouth, head resting against the wall as the convulsions take over his body, faintly registering the sensation of Roman sucking him dry. It's too much, too much to take in at the same time, Sami's nerve endings sparked like crosswires, trapped between the tight heat of Roman's mouth and Hunter's palm splayed against his back.

Sami opens his eyes and looks down to find Roman staring straight up at him, lips still wrapped tight around his cock, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. A bead of white escapes his lower lip and trickles down his chin, where Hunter's index finger scoops it up and pushes it back into Roman's mouth.

It's all so very, very fucked up and yet it's also the hottest thing Sami's ever seen all his life, especially when Roman swallows around his length and lets Sami slip from his mouth, a messy trail of come painting his chin and splattering the dark strands of his beard.

"Mmm…such a mess you're making, baby…" Hunter wipes his thumb across Roman's chin and kisses him, lapping messily at the remnants of Sami's release and that's almost enough to get Sami hard again. He feels like he's under some kind of spell, mesmerized by the grade-A pornographic images being played out before him and the heat of intimacy encircling the three of them, at how debauched Roman looks and how self-satisfied Hunter seems to be.

"D-daddy…" Roman mutters, and Sami's spent dick twitches in response. Fuck, that's still the hottest thing he's ever heard in his life. "Daddy, please…"

"What's that, baby?" Hunter says, trailing his fingers down Roman's chest, spreading the mess of sweat and spit pooling there.

"He hasn't come yet," Sami supplies dumbly, moving to lie on Roman's other side.

"Oh, that's right…" Hunter says playfully, hand trailing down until he finds Roman's hard cock, taking it in his palm and tugging lightly. "Do you think he's deserved it, Red?"

Sami feels an odd rush of something— _power, control_ , whatever it is that Hunter wields so effortlessly over them both. He can't believe Hunter is sharing it with him—it feels at once like a privilege and an unbelievable burden.

"Yes…" he manages to choke out. "He's done good…"

Hunter smiles and kisses Roman's cheek again. "What do you say to that, baby boy?"

"T-thank you, Sami…" Roman lets out, panting heavily.

"Sami, why don't you relax for a bit, yeah? I'll take care of this…" Hunter says.

Sami nods, leaning back to watch as Hunter takes Roman's cock in the firm grip of his left hand, stroking slowly at first. Then his right hand sneaks between Roman's legs and searches under, and while Sami can't quite see what he's doing there it's plain from Roman's reaction that Hunter's breached him with his fingers, causing Sami's own well-used hole to twitch in sympathy.

Roman's squirming, pulling against his binds as Hunter's hands work him, biting his lip down hard until Hunter pries them open with his own mouth, swallowing down his moans in a wet, messy kiss that makes Sami's throat run dry. It's way too soon for him to get hard again but his body sure has a go at it, buoyed by the sights before him.

It doesn't take long for Roman to come, his cock shooting in Hunter's fist and sending messy spurts everwhere, staining his chest and stomach. Sami licks his lips involuntarily at the sight, listening to the long, drawn-out moans Roman's letting out and Hunter's murmurs of appreciation. Hunter reaches up and undoes the belt binding Roman's wrists together, while Sami reaches behind Roman's head to unfasten the strap of the gag. As soon as his hands are free Roman reaches, surprisingly enough, for Sami, pulling him down to share a kiss with him, lips trembling and tasting like an odd mix of relief and gratitude. Sami's eyes catches sight of Hunter behind Roman's shoulder, seeking silent permission, but the older man just smiles knowingly at them both, like a pleased teacher.

Hunter leaves the bed soon after, leaving Sami with Roman, holding each other's sweat-soaked bodies on the damp bedding as they both come down from their shared high. Roman's eyes look bloodshot and tired but he's smiling, which delights Sami to no end, resting their sweaty heads against the pillowcase.

"Fuck, that was…" Sami manages to say. "…that was intense."

Roman nods, rolling over to lie on his back, rubbing at his wrists. "He's not done with us, you know…"

"Yeah…" Sami says. "I know."

Hunter returns with two bottles of mineral water and a pair of towels from the bathroom, draping one over each of them as he watches them drink. Sami chugs down a few good gulps but Roman just sips carefully, Hunter's arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"You okay, baby?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Roman says. "Just…gimme a minute."

"Take your time…" Hunter says, pressing a quiet kiss on Roman's temple. "Take it easy, lie down for a bit…"

Sami watches intently as Hunter gently maneuvers Roman to lie flat on the bed, toweling him down to wipe off the mess of bodily fluids staining his body, stroking his hair and whispering words Sami can't quite make out into Roman's ear. They seem to put Roman at ease, his breathing evening out as he curls up and the soft blankets are pulled up to his shoulders. To Sami's eyes it looks almost like Hunter's tucking in a sleeping child, which is ridiculous considering what's just transpired between them minutes ago, but then again maybe that's part of the whole appeal.

Roman's asleep before long, and Sami suddenly feels acutely aware of the sticky mess of his own body, the prickly sheen of sweat covering him from head to toe. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, retreating from the bed as quietly as he can so as not to jostle Roman awake, and feels Hunter's gaze following him every step of the way.

—

The Vegas night air is blowing cool and dry against Sami's face, bringing with it the waft of noises coming from the Strip and the incessant pulses of garish-colored lights. He's sitting out in the balcony with a can of Coke poured over a glass of ice cubes, knees pulled up to his chest on the deck-style chair. He's not tired enough to fall asleep, he's had a shower and a light snack, and Roman's still napping quietly in the bedroom, so he figures he might as well get himself a bit of fresh air out here.

Hunter soon joins him, and Sami scoots over to make room for him on the deck chair, letting Hunter arrange himself before he pulls Sami close to lie against him, resting his head against Hunter's bare chest.

"How you feelin'?"

 _I was just treated to a sex show between two of the hottest men I've ever known, and came so hard I almost blacked out._

"Fantastic…" Sami says. "Wish I got to do this more often…"

Hunter chuckles and runs his fingers through Sami's hair. "Missed you, Red…"

"Yeah, maybe we should make this a pre-Wrestlemania ritual or something, so I'll at least have something to look forward to every year."

He didn't mean to make it sound like a complaint, but his tone must have betrayed him. Hunter sighs and strokes down his back in response. "I'm sorry things aren't quite working out for you yet…"

"Don't be," Sami says. "You said it yourself last year, it's not up to you what happens to me once I get moved up."

"Are you holding up okay, though? I know it gets tough when you put in so much work into it and don't see things working out…"

Sami sighs heavily. "It's harder some days… but what else am I gonna do? It's what I love doing, so I'll just keep on doing it."

Hunter says nothing in response, just rakes gentle fingers down his back before nestling them in his hair again.

"Anyway, thanks for taking my mind off things for a bit…" Sami says.

"Oh, there's plenty more where that came from, Red…just wait a bit," Hunter says, a playful promise in his voice.

"You sure we haven't worn Roman out yet?"

"Nah, he's taken a whole lot more than this from me…" Hunter assures him. "He just needs a breather."

"God, you're so fucking lucky, you know that?" Sami can't help himself from saying. "He's…he's unbelievable."

"I know…" Hunter agrees. "Believe me, I know."

"The way you two are…I'm surprised you'd even think of sharing him with someone else."

Hunter tenses slightly, his hand stilling at the small of Sami's back. "Yeah…that…didn't always work out so well."

Sami looks up. "How do you mean?"

Hunter shakes his head. "After the Royal Rumble, he wanted someone…a very specific someone, that is. Needed this person to…mess him up, target this very specific thing in his head that he needed after that night."

Sami feels himself coil up in tension as he puts two and two together. "It was Orton, wasn't it?"

"Yes…" Hunter nods.

"What happened?" Sami asks, dreading the answer.

"Randy got a bit…overzealous," Hunter says uneasily.

"Fuck, did he hurt him?" Sami rises up off Hunter's chest. "He did, didn't he?"

Hunter's expression was grim. "I didn't realize it until it was over—Roman didn't signal me anything, didn't try to stop it."

"Fuck," Sami hissed. "What'd…what'd you do?"

"If it were up to me, I'd have thrown him down a flight of stairs or run him over with my car or something…" Hunter says. "Unfortunately, the best I could do was book him a loss against John Cena and have him kneel to Bray Wyatt,"

Sami shudders, a cold sensation prickling the back of his neck. "That…that was you?"

"I try not to over-exercise it, but yeah…" Hunter nods. "Nobody else needed to know what it was for, but Randy does…and that's enough for me. Also, he's never getting near Roman again."

"Oh, I sure hope not…" Sami says, feeling oddly angry. "Why'd…why'd you let me near him, then?"

"Oh, Sami…" Hunter's expression brightens slightly. "You know Roman likes you. A lot. And I'm kind of fond of you as well in case you haven't noticed…"

Sami feels a flush of color rising to his cheeks. "Thanks…"

"In any case, I trust you. _We_ trust you. I know you'd never hurt Roman like that. And I kinda like the sight of the two of you together…"

Sami squirms a little, though not from discomfort. "Well, I…kinda like you pushing him and me around to do all kinds of things to each other…it's oddly… _liberating_ , in a way."

"Yeah, that's kind of the idea," Hunter says. "You get to let go, Roman gets to let go, and I get to watch my boys play together…"

"So everybody wins," Sami says.

"Everybody wins," Hunter agrees. "How often can you say that?"

"Not often enough," Sami says.

Hunter smiles and tips his chin up, kissing him slow and sweet, a sharp contrast to the wild, lustful puppet master of not two hours ago, and Sami finds himself melting a little, swayed by the easy affection and the warmth Hunter projects.

There's always going to be a part of Sami that loves Hunter, adores him for everything that he's done and everything he's still trying to do, worships the very thought of him like the teenager glued to his TV screen years ago, utterly transfixed by the sight of this man and the all-encompassing charisma he wields so effortlessly. Sami knows the danger of putting people on pedestals but even if Hunter's mystique has rubbed off since he started working for the man it's been replaced by a sincere bond of mentorship and guidance, a faith that Sami feels he hasn't quite repaid.

He won't ever occupy the same space in Hunter's life that Roman does, Sami knows that for sure, but he's grateful for what he does get, and the rarity of these encounters makes them all that sweeter. He gets to enjoy Hunter's solid, uncomplicated presence, the wrap of strong arms around him cradling him like a baby, and having Roman be part of it feels like an added bonus.

"Sami…" Hunter whispers after a long silence. "There's something else I wanna try tonight, something Roman's been asking me for…"

"Hmm…what is it?"

Hunter leans in close to whisper in his ear, and Sami's body jolts with a mixture of excitement and dread.

—

Roman wakes to the low hum of conversation happening somewhere above his head, and a pair of mismatched hands stroking down his abdomen. He blinks, trying to bring his vision into focus and vaguely sees the outline of two dark shapes hovering above him, reaching out blindly to grasp at them.

"Sshh, baby…we got you," Hunter's voice says as he catches Roman's hand in his, squeezing his fingers tight.

Roman curls towards the voice instinctively, seeking out the familiar warmth of Hunter's body. "Daddy…"

"Right here, I'm right here…" Hunter soothes him. "You ready to play again, baby? Is that it?"

"Mmm-hmm," Roman nods without thinking, Hunter's voice lulling him into that sweet, comfortable hazy space in his head where all his other cares are stripped away.

"Sami, can you get him ready for me?"

Roman feels his hips being hitched up, a pillow slid underneath him and a pair of hands gently prying his legs open. He looks down and finds Sami there, smiling a little sheepishly up at him, and Roman smiles back, eyes fluttering slightly when he feels lube-slick fingers at his entrance.

"Let Sami open you up nicely, baby…that's it…" Hunter coaxes his legs further apart, his other hand stroking gently through Roman's hair.

"Daddy…" Roman rasps out. "Are we…are we—"

"Yes, we're gonna do that thing you said you wanted to try," Hunter says calmingly. "Which is why you gotta let Sami prep you real good, okay?"

Roman nods, his legs falling open further, awash in the sensation of Sami's fingers opening him up and Hunter's soothing presence next to him, peppering his mouth with soft kisses.

Sami's fingers aren't as thick as Hunter's but they're longer, more nimble, and Roman soon finds himself rocking against them, trying to work them further into his hole, every jab against his sweet spot sending tremors down his body. Vaguely he hears Hunter instructing Sami to add another finger, and soon Roman's stretched wide around three, a flare of pain shooting up his spine which he fights not to let show on his face. He wants to be good, wants to be good for Hunter, for Sami, they're being so good to him, he wants to be good for them, do whatever pleases them, make them happy, make them keep touching him like this, like they want him more than anything else in the world.

"You wanna get Daddy ready with that mouth of yours?"

Roman nods, letting his lips fall open as Hunter pushes his half-hard dick between them, sliding in slow and easy, filling him up. He feels like he's floating on a bed of fire, bookended by the twin sensations of Sami's fingers fucking him open an Hunter fucking his mouth, both holes occupied and used like that's all they're ever meant for. He bucks his hips into the movement of Sami's hand and tightens his lips around Hunter's cock, eager and desperate in equal measure, needing something more, more, more.

"I think that's enough, Sami…" he hears Hunter's voice.

"You…you sure?"

"Yeah," Hunter says as he pulls out of Roman's mouth gently. "You need it bad, don't you baby boy?"

"Please, Daddy…" Roman begs.

Hunter smiles down at him and resituates his body, lying flat on his back and beckoning Roman to get on top of him. Faintly he registers the feeling of Sami's hands guiding him into position, and soon Roman's sinking down on Hunter's hot, hard length, his lube-slicked hole squelching wetly as he's penetrated.

"That's it, baby…you're doin' real good…" Hunter encourages him, hands firmly planted on Roman's hips.

For awhile Roman just rides Hunter slowly, enjoying the way Hunter's cock rocks up into him with every thrust, his own cock rubbing hard against his stomach. Hunter's hands guide their pace, thumb rubbing circles into Roman's pelvic bones in rhythm to his slow, methodical thrusts. Sami's plastered against Roman's back, breathing against his neck, dotting his shoulder with kisses.

"Push him down on me, Sami…slowly," Hunter instructs, and Sami's hand moves to the back of Roman's neck, pushing him down until Roman's head is resting on Hunter's chest, both of Hunter's arms coming up to envelop him, holding him in place.

"Fuck, that's…" Sami makes a noise of awe from behind them and Roman's cheeks heat up, aware of the sight they must be presenting, his hole stretched around Hunter's length and bobbing up and down on it slowly.

"Yeah, you want in on this, Sami?" Hunter says as he strokes a hand down Roman's face. "You want Sami to fuck you too, baby boy?"

"Yes…" Roman says. "Fuck, yes…please…"

Hunter smiles and kisses him, distracting him from the sound of a foil packet being torn open from somewhere behind him, and soon he feels Sami's weight shift behind him, the head of a condom-wrapped cock poking tentatively at his entrance.

"Go slow, Sami…" Hunter says over Roman's shoulder.

"Okay…"

Roman buries his head in Hunter's chest and closes his eyes, fighting to relax his muscles as Sami begins to push inside. For a few moments he thinks it's impossible, that he can't possibly take it, but then the head of Sami's cock slips past the tight ring of muscle and all three of them cry out, Sami with a shocked gasp and Roman with a whimper that he muffles against Hunter's skin.

It's too much, the feel of both of them inside him, he's stretched so wide and it hurts, it hurts but he wants it, wants to be overwhelmed by the feel of them, wants to get taken over completely until he can't think, wants to forget that he exists for any other purpose than to be fucked open like this.

"Sami…" he gasps out. "Keep going."

"Do it, Sami…" Hunter says. "Go real slow."

Sami has one hand on Roman's hips and another at the back of Roman's neck, pushing him further down against Hunter's chest, breaching Roman inch by agonizing inch alongside Hunter's already deep-seated length. Roman feels like he can't fucking breathe, his hands fisting the pillowcase on either side of Hunter's head, tears starting to stream from his eyes. Then, almost unexpectedly, Sami bottoms out, the full length of his dick sheathed within Roman's impossibly stretched hole, and Roman gasps in response.

"Fuck…fuck, Daddy…Sami…"

"Shhh….we've got you, baby boy…." Hunter soothes him, kissing the side of his face. "You're good…"

"Yeah…you're amazing, Ro…" Sami says, and his voice sounds so earnest and in awe that Roman can't help but smile.

"Am…am I?" he asks shakily.

"Yeah, you are…" Hunter clears a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. "Fucking love you, you're such a good boy, my precious baby…"

If he weren't so deep in subspace and so completely fucked out, Roman would remark about how Hunter always seemed to choose the most unorthodox moments to declare his feelings, like when Roman's nearly unconscious with two dicks inside of him, but as it is he just lets the words wash over him like a pleasant breeze, relishing the way they sink into his being like footprints in soft sand.

There's not much vigorous fucking they can do with Roman being so completely full, but Sami can still rock into him gently, making Roman gasp and whimper with each thrust, letting himself get carried by the motions of the two men he's currently trapped between. It's not that the friction and burn itself is pleasurable, but the feeling of being completely at their mercy, the total loss of his own control over his body, is what keeps Roman floating in a haze of bliss.

"Sami…" he hears Hunter mutter shakily over his shoulder. "When you're almost…you know, pull out before you come…"

"Okay…" Sami replies, and Roman sinks his head further into Hunter's chest. Of course, of course, how could he forget, his ass belongs to Hunter, his _everything_ belongs to Hunter, and only Hunter gets to come inside him from now on, condom or not.

Sami stays inside for a few more languid minutes, moving slow and gentle, until he withdraws with the same care and deliberateness as he had when he pushed in, cock sliding wetly out of Roman's hole.

"You can come on his back…" Hunter says. "Go on…"

Sami takes up the invitation, Roman can hear the condom being peeled off, mere seconds before the first spurt his his back, Sami's grunting noises accompanying them. He can't see the look on Sami's face but he can see the pleased expression on Hunter, which is enough for him.

Before Roman can adjust to the feeling he's being moved again, pushed up and over until he finds himself lying flat on his back, legs hitched up over Hunter's shoulders, and Hunter starting to fuck him steadily. This is Roman's favorite position, where he can feel the solid weight of Hunter pressed down on him, the firm grip of Hunter's hands around his wrists letting him and whoever else watching know without a shadow of a doubt to whom Roman belonged.

"Damn, you're still so tight, baby…" Hunter remarks playfully, even though his voice is fraying slightly, signaling his impending climax. "Your hole's just made to be fucked, isnt it—so sweet and tight, taking my cock so good, like you're fucking made for it…"

Roman whimpers, eyes falling shut as he focuses on those words, the utter filth Hunter's so good at verbalizing that never fails to pull Roman over the edge.

"Gonna come in you soon, gonna drench you in it, fill you right up until you can't hold it in anymore, that's what you like, isn't it?"

"Yes, Daddy…" Roman gasps out with the last remnants of coherent thought. "Please…"

Hunter smiles down at him, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, keep begging for it, baby…love how you sound when you're split open on my cock, like you can't get enough of it—"

Roman comes, untouched, a sharp wailing cry wrenched from his throat which Hunter silences with a kiss, thrusting savagely several more times until he shoots his load, hot and wet inside Roman, hips pumping all the way through it. Roman feels like he's drowning, wrists clenched tight in Hunter's iron grip, breathing through a thick fog, Hunter's tongue roving inside his mouth. He's never felt better in his life.

Hunter retreats slowly, kissing a trail down his nose, his neck and his chest, pulling his cock out gently and replacing it with a single finger, smearing the spillover come around Roman's hole and pushing some of it back inside. His other hand takes hold of Roman's left ankle, rubbing the thick leather band enclosing it, toying with the pendant that bears his initials.

When Roman can breathe easily again, he finds himself maneuvered once more until his head is resting on a pair of fresh pillows, and Hunter's spooned up behind him, an arm thrown lazily around his waist. In front of him lies Sami, looking tired and a little frayed but smiling from ear to ear, the lovable smartass, one hand reaching out to stroke Roman's face.

"You okay, Ro?"

"Never been better…" Roman says, shuffling to press his back against Hunter's chest.

"Stay, Sami…" Hunter says. "Go to sleep…"

Sami nods and lies his head down next to Roman, still with that dopey smile on his face as if he's the one who's just been fucked within an inch of his life.

"How's that for a show, Sami?" Roman asks casually.

"I'll take this over the Cirque du Soleil any day," Sami says. "And that's coming from a Canadian."

Roman laughs and kicks Sami's foot gently, the pendant around his ankle jingling with his movement.


End file.
